Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers
by Gold-Snitcher
Summary: DMHP. AU. Draco Malfoy loves boarding school almost as much as he hates it. But this new school for the arts provides him with more challenges and happiness than he ever expected to experience. (Complete).
1. Settling In

**Title:** _Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter One:** Settling In

**Pairing:** DM/HP, various other

**Warning:** There are some scenes in this fic which contain explicit content. These scenes are appropriately marked. If you are underage, and reading this fic despite the rating, but are still squeamish, avoid these scenes (you can't miss them). No flames, please!

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy loves boarding school almost as much as he hates them. But this new school for the arts provides him with more challenges and happiness than he ever expected to experience.

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He walked up the stone steps and dropped his suitcase down beside him as he surveyed his surroundings. This was the place that would be his new home for the rest of the year.

Draco Malfoy had grown to love boarding schools.

He loved them, almost as much as he hated them.

He loved his home and his parents very much, but most of the time he couldn't help but feel suffocated with both of them worrying and coddling him all of the time; fussing over simple matters, and imposing seemingly impossible expectations.

Boarding school had always offered Draco freedom, and yet it drove him crazy because he never seemed to fit-in to any one particular group. Certainly he was the most popular boy in school, but most of his classmates were intimidated by him, and despite his stunning looks, and the way the girls, and some of the guys would swoon over him, Draco was pretty much a loner. People were afraid to go near him.

That he was a Malfoy really didn't help. Everyone knew they were one of the richest families in all of England. That he was defensive and a little standoffish didn't make him any more approachable either, but the way he saw it, the people who were worth getting to know would make more of an effort for him.

He hadn't met anyone like that yet.

This was the fourth boarding school in the last six years. The only other one that proved to be even a remotely enjoyable experience had only been enjoyable because it had introduced him to his best friend, Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire and all-round wit. He had ended-up leaving anyway though, because he had never settled in at the place and had cultivated a rather large and intense group of people who really didn't like him.

This new school was different; he was actually excited about it.

Well, as excited as he could ever get over new schools, which, after as many as he had attended, really wasn't much. He was excited because the one thing Draco was really passionate about was music, and this was a school for the arts. It covered the normal course-work, of course, but it emphasized whichever area one really enjoyed: art, drama, or, in Draco's case, music.

"You must be Draco Malfoy." The voice split the silence and echoed off the walls.

Draco looked up and was confronted by a rather tall, aged woman with spectacles and a general impish grandmother quality to her that almost made him smirk. She clutched her hands together and looked irritated as she scanned the halls. "He's supposed to be here by now. I do apologize."

Not sure what she was apologizing for, Draco was easily appeased. "That's alright. I really just got here."

She smiled at him slightly and took a step forward. "I'm professor McGonagall, dean of students. You may leave your bag in my office and then we will go find your renegade guide."

Draco frowned. "My guide?" In his last school he had been taken on a tour by one of the people from student services, a very annoying little man who had chuckled all the time and for no apparent reason.

McGonagall motioned him to follow her and he did so. She spoke as they walked. "Students offer to act as guides for the new and transfer students. Prefects often do it, but we do get a few interested students who wish to offer their services. We find that it often creates fast friends and at the very least makes the new student more comfortable. But it hardly works when the guide fails to turn up!" she huffed and unlocked a door.

Draco was trying not to laugh; the woman was very entertaining. "Just put your bag in the corner, and it will be brought to your room." He nodded and deposited his bag in the corner, feeling awkward now that he had nothing to lug around. She shuffled through some papers on her desk and produced a small envelope, which she clutched in her long fingers.

"Alright. Follow me, Mr. Malfoy." She shut the door behind them and walked hurriedly through the halls and he sped-up, looking around him as they walked. It really was a lovely place, very old and elegant. His new school was really a large castle and he found himself feeling quite at home.

"I am not sure what you are used to from your other schools, but here we have a separate building for residences: two boys dorms and two girls dorms. They are all separate. Within your building you have a bedroom, which you share with another boy." Draco was relieved. Most of the other dorms he had stayed in had been shared between four or five boys. "There are five rooms that all share an adjoining common room. I'm sure you will go through all of this later. May I ask what course of study you have chosen?"

"Music," he stated, staring at a gargoyle that was watching him suspiciously.

"Ahh, yes. It is probable, then, that you will be my pupil. I do theoretical studies for music. Which instrument do you play?"

He sighed. In truth he played several, but he really loved piano, and that was what he had chosen to pursue. "Piano."

She nodded. "The music department is really a lovely department and..." she paused and then a smile spread across her face as if something pleased her very much. "Just as I thought. He's in the concert hall." Draco watched as she hurried towards a set of very large oak doors and then he heard the music that was seeping out from under the doors.

It was wild and made him bite his lip in excitement.

He had never heard anyone play like that before.

McGonagall opened the doors and, eyes sparkling raised a finger to her lips as if she were a schoolgirl about to play a prank and asking that he not spoil her fun.

Draco stepped to the door and looked down, past the rows of seats to the stage, where his attention was drawn not to the drummer or the keyboard player or the two other instruments on stage, but to the boy who stood at the centre playing a bright blue violin wildly, swaying slightly. "I've never heard Bach's Toccata and Fugue played quite like that, (1)" he murmured, and McGonagall nodded to him.

"He's a special case. Whenever he gets out his electric violin, trouble ensues."

Draco listened with rapt attention, heart rate already picking-up. The violinist was incredible and it was obvious he was completely involved in what he was playing and enjoying every moment. "Well, follow me," she said, snapping herself out of her reverie. Draco felt, for the first time, awed by music.

He followed her down the aisle between the seats and stopped by the stage. She was about to interrupt when she glanced at him, her smile growing. "We'll wait until it's finished, shall we?" He nodded emphatically and watched the boy.

He was slimly built, about the same size as Draco himself. He wore black pants and a black dress-shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His hair was just as black as the clothes he was wearing and was fairly mussed. As he played, slender fingers moving nimbly across the fingerboard, he leaned into the music, swaying slightly along with the movement of his bow.

The song came to a close and the boy held the last bar, trilling the final note. He lifted the bow from the violin, eyes still closed, and Draco saw a small smile on his lips before...

"Mr. Potter!" The boy started and lowered the violin to his side, spinning around looking genuinely startled.

"Professor," he said a bit guiltily and yet, as Draco watched them, there seemed to be a strange camaraderie and respect between the professor and the boy. McGonagall clearly couldn't quite contain her amusement and pleasure at hearing him play, and Draco couldn't deny that the boy was good.

"Did you not have an appointment at one o'clock, Mr. Potter?"

The boy bit his lip and then his eyes went suddenly wide. "Oh no! I'm sorry, professor! I just ... I mean..." Draco was smirking now as the flustered boy quickly packed-up his electric violin.

Draco noticed the other people on the stage, two girls and three boys, each chuckling over their instruments. One boy, with flaming orange hair was laughing out right and rolled his eyes at the dark haired boy as he snapped the case closed "Good one, Harry," the orange-haired boy muttered, and Harry stood-up quickly, violin case in hand.

McGonagall cleared her throat to regain the dark-haired boy's attention. "There is no need to apologize to me, Mr. Potter. But Mr. Malfoy was left in the front hall for five minutes."

Harry muttered an apology again and was on his way down the stage. "I'll go get him," he mumbled, not looking up from the floor, and Draco, still smirking, extended a hand.

"There's no need," he said confidently.

The black-haired boy started, then looked at him in shock. "Er ... I mean. Sorry."

Draco shrugged. "That's okay. Professor McGonagall found me, and I made it here in one piece so it's not a problem." He wasn't sure why he was being civil. Perhaps he was still thrown-off by the song. Whenever Draco heard people play, it was always reserved and so much like everything else in his life, mainly empty. This boy had snapped hairs off his bow, and had been smiling and swaying with the music. It was something he hadn't encountered before. And the other instruments, and the way the fugue had been played, he was certain his father would have cringed and called it a perversion of Bach's work, but Draco found it was rather invigorating.

He was startled when the boy shifted the case to his other hand and grabbed hold of Draco's in a firm shake. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter." Draco paused to think of where he had heard the name before and realization dawned. The Potters were a very wealthy family and had owned a record company that was the place to go when you wanted to be heard. All the best musicians from all possible strands of music had made their debut through the company.

"Draco Malfoy," he said and shook the hand. They nodded to each other and Harry sighed.

"Well, guess I should give you the low-down on this place." A choking sound from behind reminded him that McGonagall was still there.

"You guess, Mr. Potter? Really. Now Mr. Malfoy," she said, handing over the envelope she had taken off her desk earlier. "This is the key to your dormitory. And here is your timetable. Classes start on Monday, if you have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to come to me. And Mr. Potter," she said in a suddenly very stern and angry voice. Draco was surprised by the change until he caught the twinkle in her eyes. "That was a lovely rendition of the toccata and fugue." She turned and left.

"She's an odd bird, that one," came a voice from the stage and Draco looked up to the orange-haired boy.

Harry chuckled, then stopped and blushed a little. Draco was struck by it. "Sorry. Draco Malfoy, this is Ronald Weasley."

The orange-haired boy grimaced. "And if you call me 'Ronald' I should have to hurt you." He hopped off the stage and extended a hand. Draco shook it, feeling a little disconcerted. He was certain that, in a few days, they would have both grown to hate him, and Draco wondered why he really hoped that didn't happen.

"Pleasure," he stated, before Harry picked-up his case again and motioned his head to the doors.

"Best get a move-on. It's rather a large campus." Draco nodded.

"See you at dinner then, Harry?" Harry waved at Ron and they headed out.

"So, what are you in for?" Harry asked.

"Music. I play piano." Harry nodded, turning right and heading past very nice hallway with windows on one side and artwork on the other.

"I'm here for music as well. Violin mainly, but I play other instruments."

Draco didn't expect that, he had always figured if you could play one instrument really well, why play another? That was why he favored piano, though his father had made him play the flute and the viola as well. "What others?"

Harry shrugged. "Mostly strings. I'm no good with holding my breath and all that." He seemed to think of something and bit his lip, then jolted himself away from the thought and opened a door. "If you're here for piano you'll probably get to know Professor Snape painfully well. He's the piano teacher. This will be your main base of operations." He stepped into a large room that had a large, white grand piano in one corner, and other, smaller pianos as well. One wall was composed entirely of mirrors, and there was a rather gaudy mural on the ceiling.

"If you're really good, you get private lessons instead of group lessons. But you've got to endure group lessons for a bit before they make a decision," Harry said as they walked further into the room. Draco admired the pianos and tentatively played a few notes.

Harry watched him closely, a measuring look on his face before he sighed and looked around him. "The thing with Snape is you've got to look really good while you're playing. He's really temperamental. If you don't sit well at the piano, or if your hand position is off, or if he takes a special disliking to you he'll harp on you horribly. And you don't want to get punished by him," he added.

Draco looked up, watching the boy closely. "What does he do?"

Harry shrugged. "If you want to know more, speak to Neville Longbottom. He and Snape really don't get along. Snape gets the most pleasure from slamming the lid of the piano down on your hands if you make a mistake or your position is off. (2) Neville's broken a finger or two because of it." Draco winced and looked nervous and Harry chuckled. "Sorry. Just trying to prepare you. All right. Let's hear something then," he said, hopping up on a piano bench and looking at Draco expectantly.

"What?" He wondered why he was nervous to play for the boy. He was an excellent pianist, he had nothing to worry about, but something about the intensity that Harry radiated, it was making Draco feel nervous and suddenly his hormones were reacting in a rather distracting way. He cursed himself and managed a flippant shrug. "I don't have music."

Harry snorted. "No true musician needs music," he said in a way that didn't sound snobbish or patronizing, but as if he were simply reminding Draco of what he was.

Draco looked at him as if he were crazy. "How do you know what to play?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't you ever just close your eyes and feel your way around the instrument?" Draco bit his lip. He did, but whenever his father heard him he would get yelled at. But, feeling overwhelmed by the room, and the boy, and the presence of such a marvelous piano, he took a seat, took a deep breath, and started playing, aware of those deep green eyes on him all the way through.

When he finished Harry nodded, a small smile on his lips. "That was good." Draco felt himself blushing for some reason and stood hurriedly, carefully closing the lid on the piano. "You shouldn't worry about Snape, you two will get along famously." There seemed to be something behind that statement, something that sounded a bit bitter, and Draco made a note of it. "Come on. I'll show you the other classrooms."

The tour was relatively uneventful, though oddly enjoyable. Draco found that he didn't really listen to what the boy was saying, except for the advice about the different teachers. It seemed Harry had had an experience with each one and was able to offer some good advice. Instead, he found himself watching Harry and wondering about him.

"So, which residence are you in?" Harry asked when they had returned to the main hall. Draco frowned then hastily opened the envelope professor McGonagall had given him.

"Looks like Hart House."

Harry nodded. "That's my res. Which room?"

He lifted the paper out more and read it. "210."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh McGonagall, what will we ever do with you?" he said as he shook his head and smiled. "Alright, come on, then." He headed outside and walked across a small courtyard towards a rather Victorian looking mansion.

Draco stuffed the paper into his bag and hurried to catch up. "What's wrong with it?" Harry frowned at him, not following his question. "The room. What's wrong with it?" Draco clarified.

"Nothing. It's just, we've been having trouble in our section ... One of the boys was relocated because he was ... uhm ... causing difficulties." Draco noticed the tense flush and made note of it to ask later. "It's just when she came to me, asking if I would do the tour she was making all sorts of subtle comments that I didn't get, but now I do. You're in my section." Draco nodded and thought about how he felt about being in the boy's section, sharing a lounge with him, seeing him, undoubtedly everyday. He found he was rather pleased with the idea.

"Why did the other boy have to leave?" Harry was biting his lip. They were almost at the door to the residence and Harry was just about to open his mouth when...

"Child Prodigy Potter, what a pleasant surprise."

He frowned and turned to see four boys glaring at Harry. "Peter. Absolutely smashing to see you," Harry said sarcastically through gritted teeth.

The boy who stood in the middle smiled a little. "Who's your new friend?" Harry was glaring daggers and Draco was surprised to see the dark haired boy was moving his violin case, which he had been carrying throughout the tour, behind him, as if he were protecting it.

"Draco Malfoy, meet Peter McLain." Draco wondered if he should extend a hand or not, but seeing as Peter had not actually said anything offensive to him, he did. He saw a strange look flicker through the green eyes before a shout from across the courtyard startled everyone.

"Get the hell away from him, McLain!" Draco let go of the hand quickly, wondering if the comment was to get away from him. He was surprised to see that Ron, who was the one that had shouted, moved to stand between Harry and the boy.

McLain was smirking with delight. "Protective, aren't you, Weasley." The freckled boy snarled but Peter just yawned. "Communing with you prats is boring me. See you later, Potter," he said, blowing a flippant kiss to the dark haired boy, who continued to glower.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked, and Draco was watching them curiously. "I swear, if he..."

Harry put a hand on Ron's arm and tried to smile. "Really, Ron. It's fine. Besides, I'm just finishing up Draco's tour." Draco caught the emphasis, as if he was saying to talk about it later.

"Can I come?" Ron asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Draco, can you put up with this prat?"

Draco chuckled and pretended to think it over. "If I really must," he said, and Harry smirked at him. Ron rolled his eyes but walked with them anyway. Feeling that inquiring about Peter would not be appropriate, Draco asked the next question that was bothering him. "So. Child Prodigy Potter?" Harry blushed and led them up a twirling staircase, fumbling with a set of keys.

Noticing that Harry wasn't about to answer he turned to Ron with an eyebrow raised in question. Ron shrugged. "Harry's a master when it comes to anything artistic. He's taking a broad program, you know, doing drama and art and music. Absolutely crazy in my books, but he's really smashing."

"They let you do that?" Draco asked, and Harry, still flushing slightly, shrugged, holding the door to the common room he'd just unlocked for them and they walked in, the door closing behind them.

"Harry's a special case," Ron said, and Draco remembered McGonagall saying that very same thing.

"Why?" he asked and Ron was just opening his mouth to reply when Harry, who had returned from dropping his violin off, presumably in his room, fixed Ron with a serious look before turning to Draco.

"Do you want the tour?" Draco startled a bit, and then nodded. A silent exchange went on between Ron and Harry, and Ron ended-up looking away, biting his lip. Harry nodded and the anger left his eyes. He gestured to the common area, which was really quite large.

"You're lucky because we don't have a full section. This is the common area, it's where we watch Tele and talk and generally annoy each other. You won't get work done here. That's best kept to your room, unless you're aiming to be unproductive." he motioned Draco to follow him. They stood looking down three separate halls. "That's Ron and Seamus, down there. The bathroom is right across from them. Three sinks and a shower. There's another bathroom just around the corner with a bath and shower, and another sink." He pointed to the middle hallway. "I'm on the left. Neville and Dean are on the right."

"You have your own room?" Harry nodded. "Why?"

He flushed again and shrugged. "It's not a full section. Anyway, you're down there," he pointed to the hallway on the right. "You're in 210? You're sharing with Blaise. And across from you is Crabbe and Goyle and I should warn you that..." He stopped and bit his lip. Draco found this rather distracting. "...Well it's for you to make your own opinions..." Draco wondered why that hurt. Harry had been really open before, and suddenly he was acting strange.

Harry led him down the hall and knocked on the door before opening it. "Blaise never locks it," he said in explanation, and then stepped back to let Draco through. "Anyway. Here you are. Any questions and any one of us would be happy to help. Dinner is at five. Nobody's back yet; they've gone on a trip into town. You'll meet them later today."

He left before Draco could thank him and he sighed and looked at the room. It wasn't bad. He had a desk and bed and a good deal of shelf and drawer space and a small dresser with a little mirror on it. It looked cozy.

Draco unpacked his bag, which, true to McGonagall's word, was sitting there and waiting for him. Then, not wanting to hide in his bedroom, he went out to the sitting room.

And that was when he heard the angry voices.

"You had no right..." That was Harry, and Draco felt a surge of guilt, though he was not sure why.

"I was being friendly. In case you hadn't noticed, he's going to be our section-mate and we're going to get to know each other. _Hell_, Harry! He was being _friendly_!" This was Ron, and Draco felt satisfied that Ron was defending him. He settled onto the couch and grabbed a magazine in case they came out.

"He shook McLain's hand!"

"Christ, Harry. I know. But what do you want him to do? He doesn't know! He's new!"

"He heard..."

"He didn't hear enough to form a solid opinion for himself. Don't start this, Harry. Please. Just let everything settle-down and we'll see how things turn out." The voices lowered and Draco tried straining his ears before Ron snapped.

"I know! And Crabbe's an arsehole! But we can't do anything about that!" Draco felt like laughing. He was startled out of his eavesdropping when the door opened and three boys entered, and stopped, eyeing him warily before a smile spilled over each of their faces.

"I'm Dean. This is Seamus and that's Neville. You must be our new section-mate."

Draco stood and shook each of their hands in turn. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

They smiled at each other before Seamus stepped forward. "Aw, for Christ's sake! Are they at it again?" He pushed passed Draco and headed towards Harry's room where the voices had been coming from.

"You've got to ignore Ron and Harry. They've been friends for far too long," said Dean. Draco shrugged. He was worried, but not because of them yelling, but because of how Harry's opinion of him had switched so quickly. And now he knew why. He silently promised himself to find-out what was going on with the boy, "So, Draco. What are you in for?"

"Piano."

Dean nodded. "I'm for art. Neville here is for piano as well. Seamus is for acting. Ronny-boy, back there is for drums and Harry is just ... well, he's just Harry."

Draco nodded; "he told me."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "He told you?"

Draco frowned. "Yeah, that he's taking the lot."

Dean's mouth closed and he nodded sagely. "Our little prodigy," he said with pride, but Draco couldn't help but wonder. "What else do you play? Music program requires you to study two instruments."

Draco shrugged. "Viola."

Dean laughed. "For those indecisive few who could not make the choice between the cello and the violin." Draco chuckled. "You'll have fun in that class. Your prof will be Madame Pereskew and she's a riot. Plus, Harry's lead violin if you make it to the advanced class. Man, he's something else on the violin."

"Yeah, he's really good." Draco said, recalling the earlier performance.

Neville squeaked. "You heard him?" It was the first thing, besides 'hello', that the boy had said and Draco thought he sounded rather funny.

"Yeah, he was playing in the concert hall. I heard Ron too."

Dean laughed. "Man, you should feel gifted! You must have heard him on the electric! Ah, Little Mischief! How they sound together."

"Little Mischief?" Draco asked.

Dean shrugged. "The blue electric violin. Every instrument needs a name, that's what we gave Harry's electric. That's what he was playing, right? He always brings her out on weekends, though most people aren't allowed near him, besides Ron and sometimes the band when he plays."

Draco shrugged. "McGonagall brought me over because he was late for my meeting with him."

Neville shrugged. "We all have our quirks, I guess, but never come between that boy and his art. In any way shape or form."

Dean nodded. "Damn straight. I still remember when Peter..."

There was a loud shout from the hallway and suddenly a pillow smacked Draco in the side of the head.

"What the?" Before he could react he caught sight of Ron, red and raving, pillow in hand, racing after Harry and Seamus who were laughing maniacally. They both dove to the side when Ron lobbed the other pillow at them.

"Boys!" cried a new voice, and there was a tall, rather muscular looking boy standing in the door. "Behave! You knocked the new kid in the head!"

Harry, from where he was lying on the floor laughing, remembered his duty and, in between breaths managed, "Hey, Blaise ... this is ... Draco ... Draco, Blaise..." And then a pillow smacked him in the head and he cried-out in shock, his laughter doubled.

Blaise rolled his eyes and shook Draco's hand. "So. You my new roomie? You better be neat!" Draco nodded. He was anally neat, but a snort from the other boys in the room made him quirk an eyebrow.

"Blaise, you hypocritical git!" shouted Seamus.

"Don't listen to him, Draco. He's an absolute slob!" This was Dean and they were both fixed with an indignant look from Blaise, and the boy sniffed reproachfully, until Harry lobbed a pillow at his head. Then the tall boy lunged at Harry and started tickling him.

"Can't..." came a huff. "Breathe..."

Draco couldn't contain his laughter. Ron had pounced on Blaise and was trying to pry him off of Harry. Seamus was doing a running commentary and Dean and Neville were pretending to place bets. It all stopped, however, when the door opened again. Two of the biggest boys, both in height and girth that Draco had ever seen had stepped into the room and were staring at the sight disdainfully. It didn't take long for Draco to assume these boys were Crabbe and Goyle.

"You're pathetic," came a sneer and they marched off into their rooms.

Harry, who had wiggled his head free, tilted it up and blinked. His glasses were askew, he was still on his back and Blaise was still on top of him. There was a slightly dazed expression on his face that, Draco thought, made him look delectably shaggable.

"Did they run out of cupcakes at the bakery again, boys?" cried Harry, and everyone in the common room sniggered. Harry, still with an air of calm looked at Draco demurely. "Draco, that was Crabbe and Goyle." Draco nodded. "They were pleased to make your acquaintance," Harry added and then laughed maniacally when Blaise resumed his torture.

There was a knock on the door and Neville stood, opening up and speaking to someone before he stepped aside and let a slender redheaded girl in. She looked around and her hands went to her hips.

"Gentlemen," she said, and Harry and Blaise and Ron all stilled.

"Hello, Ginny," they croaked in unison, and her eyes turned to fix themselves on Draco.

Ron stood and dusted himself off. "Hey, Gin. This is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is my baby sister, Ginny."

She smiled and shook his hand, and then winked. "You're cute," she said and Ron's mouth fell open.

"Ginny!"

She shrugged. "He is! And Blaise, will you please stop torturing Harry? I need him in one piece for my recital on Monday." Blaise mumbled something but stood up. Harry was still chuckling and gasping for breath as he staggered over to the sofa and plopped down unceremoniously, glancing side-ways at Draco as if measuring him.

There was a tentative smile in Harry's eyes and Draco found himself forgetting about the argument he had overheard, and not caring about anything except those green eyes and that boy. "Ginny's in vocal. She's part of the choir." Draco nodded. Ron and Ginny were arguing about something. Blaise was egging them on and Seamus and Dean were inserting inappropriate comments into the conversation.

"What about the others? I mean, Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle?" He wondered what creativity Crabbe and Goyle possessed.

"Blaise is in acting, and he plays the guitar."

"Another person with a split program?" he asked, and Harry nodded.

"Crabbe and Goyle are in band, bassoon and trombone. We figure the only reason why they're still here is that they're full of hot air," he whispered, and Draco found himself sniggering.

"What's Ginny's recital?" Harry glanced at him then spoke quietly, still watching Ron and Ginny argue.

"In music, you have to play two instruments. Ginny's is voice. But she also plays the violin. On Monday, the professor is testing her in class. The unit they're working on is duets and cooperating with another musician. So, she asked me to drop by and be her partner."

Draco looked at him curiously, "Drop by? I thought you were in that class?"

"I take private lessons. Like I was talking to you about with Snape. I play lead violin in one of the group classes. But Ginny isn't in the advanced class. She asked me if I would mind dropping in."

Draco nodded. "So she's in beginner?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not beginner. But ... well I guess you could look at that way. But it's more like moderate and then there is advanced. And then, for the people who don't even fit in with advanced, there are private classes. You'll be started out in core everything. Except with the basic curriculum, maths and sciences and English and the lot, because that's based on marks in your past schools. In music, though, they try to get a feel for your style and what you need to work on, and then put you with a group that will do well for you." Draco nodded.

"So! Draco!" They jolted out of their conversation and Draco blinked at Blaise. "What brings you to our humble little school midway through first term?"

Draco shrugged. "Change of scene?" he asked, and Blaise and Seamus guffawed. "Oh fine. I got in a fight with another kid."

"You got expelled?"

Draco sneered. "Of course not. I'm a Malfoy. But the other kids were pissing me off so I asked my father and he suggested this place."

Blaise shrugged. "Fair enough." He stretched then yawned. "Dinner it is, then."

Draco looked at the clock and saw that it was indeed nearing four. He got-up and followed the others out. They talked lightheartedly about a wide range of topics, generally just trying to get a feel for each other. When they entered the meal hall, Draco eyed the long tables warily, and looked-up to the head table where professors were already seated and talking.

"Who's that?" he asked Neville, pointing to a very old looking, tall man who was sitting at the head table. He had long white hair and a long white beard but he was smiling and even from this distance it seemed as if his eyes were twinkling.

"That's the headmaster," Neville muttered back, and Draco sat-down when everyone else sat-down, noting that it was all in unison. The places were already set, and there was food already out, and Draco was startled to find that he was ravenously hungry.

When they were finished they were on their way out when a girl made her way over and stopped Blaise, Harry and Seamus. "Meeting tonight?" She asked, and they nodded. She was gone before they could say anything else. Seamus stopped and looked at Draco curiously.

"I guess you haven't really given any thought to clubs you'd be interested in joining?" Draco shrugged. "There's a meeting for improv. tonight."

"Improv?" he asked as they continued walking. Ron guffawed.

"It's actually hysterically funny, most of the time. And it can get deliciously rude. It's acting. You get given situations and you just say whatever comes into your head ... you know, without a script."

If there was one thing Draco would never do, it was willingly make an ass of himself.

"No. Thanks." The boys shrugged and Harry, Blaise and Seamus disappeared down a different hall.

"Well. Who's up for some chess?" Ron asked, Neville groaned, but Draco was amenable to the idea and said so. "Great! Nobody wants to play me anymore. It's not my fault that I can't help but whoop their asses!"

"I wouldn't be too confident, Weasley." Draco said with a taunting lift to his eyebrow.

…………………….

The next morning Draco and Blaise made their way down to breakfast. Blaise was recounting a particularly rude skit that he had performed with Seamus last night.

Breakfast was quiet and anti-climactic. The others had drifted down at different times, since their schedules were different. Draco had not seen Harry again since he had been in bed before Harry had returned from his club.

He had been thinking about the boy and had accepted the fact that he already had a crush at his new school, and Harry was it. Crushes weren't new to him, they had happened before and they never led to anything. That he and Harry were sharing a section and that they were on friendly terms meant nothing. The odds of Harry being gay, or at least bisexual were less than slim. Draco didn't mind. He would settle for being Harry's friend.

Blaise nudged him out of his contemplation. "You want me to show you to your first class?" Draco nodded and they talked on their way through the halls.

The morning was dull. Math and science had always fascinated him. One of the reasons why he loved music was because of the way it used complex equations throughout the music. It was incredible, the logic behind the notes. Unfortunately, his math teacher seemed to lack energy and his science teacher was a small portly woman, who was bordering on creepy with her incessant good-cheer.

Draco endured lunch without anyone from his section. Not to say he ate alone. There were several acquaintances from his first two classes, but he had reverted to his true self, quiet and introverted. Together his section mates had put him at ease and made him feel welcome, but all in all, Draco had never been good with people.

When he reached his third class of the day, strings, right after lunch, he was excited to find that Ginny was there. The redheaded girl waved at him, and tapped the seat beside her. "Hey! I'm really nervous!"

He told her she'd be okay, even though he wasn't sure. He had never heard her play. They talked quietly before the professor entered along with a familiar dark-headed boy. Harry smiled at him and Draco nodded.

"We have a new student in our class!" the professor stated, and the students looked around, spotting Draco quickly. He was once again invited to the front of the class to introduce himself, and when he made his way back, Ginny was called forward.

"Now, Ginny Weasley is going to perform her Duet Test Piece today since she was unwell last week. Mr. Potter?" Draco noticed that Harry was completely serious, and when he made his way to the front, a beautiful violin in his left hand and a bow in the other, he looked very much the calm, reserved musician that his father would approve of, but when he stepped beside Ginny he smiled and winked.

Ginny set-up the music for them on a shared stand and took a deep breath, whispering something to Harry to which Harry replied with a nod. She then looked up and smiled shyly at the class. "For my test piece I am ... I mean; Harry and I are going to be playing Vivaldi's concerto for two violins." She glanced at Harry and they raised their violins, maintaining eye contact, they did a quiet count-in before commencing.

Draco listened with his eyes closed. He knew the piece and it felt odd listening to it with just the two violins and no back-up from an orchestra, but somehow the two violins were talking to each other, and it was such a loaded conversation that Draco found he enjoyed it very much. When it was over, he joined the rest of the class in applause and, after Ginny grinned at Harry and shook his hand emphatically, obviously controlling the urge to glomp onto her friend only just, she made her way back to him and he shook her hand and congratulated her.

"Do you think I sounded okay? I was really nervous when I asked Harry, I mean, you'd think I'd want a partner who would make me look good but..."

"Why would you choose a bad violinist to accompany you? You wouldn't learn anything from them. The whole point is to learn from every duet you play," he said and she glowed at him.

"That's what I thought. It's more inspirational," she said. From the corner of his eye he saw Harry exchange a few words with the professor and then disappear, violin in its case, after sparing him a smile, and flashing Ginny a wink.

"Well, that was a lovely start to the class. Now, let's get started."

It felt wonderful to be playing in class. Viola had never been his favorite instrument, but music made him happier than anything so he found himself enjoying the class. At the end, he was called over and informed that he should join the advanced students tomorrow and he felt even better. Class with Ginny was fun, class with Harry ... that would be something else entirely. He thanked professor Pereskew and headed down the hall, trying to find his piano class.

…………………

When he made it back to res he flopped onto the couch just as the door opened and Blaise came in. "You survived!" To a raised eyebrow Blaise snorted. "Piano. You survived."

Draco shrugged. "It wasn't so bad. I'm taking private lessons."

Blaise looked startled. "Geez. You should feel really proud. Snape never takes on students for private lessons after only seeing them in one class."

Draco shrugged. He found that he agreed with Harry. Snape was sullen and temperamental. He was exacting in his expectation of body-posture and technical aspects, but Draco was disappointed. Snape shared the same problem as he himself had. He did not feel confident enough to put any emotion into his playing. He was technically perfect, but when it came to expression, he was terrified.

"You look disappointed," Blaise stated, and Draco shrugged.

"I don't know how much he can teach me."

Blaise laughed for a good five minutes, slapping his leg and guffawing. "So modest, Mr. Malfoy!" he cried, and Draco smirked. Blaise watched him for a moment and then shrugged. "You can always get someone to tutor you. I mean, another pianist, or you can even get someone who would work with sort of duets or something."

Draco thought about it. The idea had crossed his mind before. "Who would you recommend?"

Blaise leaned back. "Depends what you wanted. Same instrument or a different one." Draco shrugged to show his lack of preference. "I'd say Harry in a heartbeat. I mean, the boy can spark passion in anyone," he sighed and then shrugged. "But..." he trailed off and Draco frowned.

"Why not?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "He needs a break every now and then." Blaise sat opposite Draco on the couch.

"What happened?" Blaise lifted an eyebrow. "I mean. There's obviously something. I met Peter. Was he the one that got thrown-out of the room?"

Blaise shook his head. "Naw. Peter's a bastard but he wouldn't ... I mean ... No. The guy got expelled."

"Why? Why did he get expelled?" Blaise looked at him with a very intense probing look, as if he was looking right into Draco's core, trying to find something out about him.

"Just leave it, okay? I mean, it's a difficult subject and it opens up a whole ton of stuff that's just ... I mean. It's too much to share with someone who we don't know really well. It should really be Harry's choice. No offense, really. It's just..."

"I understand completely. It's surprisingly comforting to hear." Blaise flashed him a weird look and Draco elaborated. "I've been to a lot of schools but never really had any friends. I like the idea that you're all protecting each other."

Blaise nodded in approval. "Hey. You're a piano-man, right?" Draco nodded. "Why don't you join my little club? It's just a whole bunch of people who play different instruments and we mess around and play at the Christmas and end-of-year concerts."

"Sounds good." Draco said, and Blaise clapped in on the shoulder.

……………….

Draco finished writing a letter to Hermione. He had been really horrible in maintaining his correspondence with her. It had been a month since he had come to his new school, and he had only mailed her once. He sighed and quickly sealed the envelope.

He heard shouts and thumping from the common room and rolled his eyes. Placing the letter in a drawer, he made his way out to find Blaise depositing several cases of alcohol on the coffee table. Seamus and Dean were clapping in excitement.

"Isn't that illegal?" Draco asked, and Blaise shrugged.

"Crabbe and Goyle are away for the weekend. Everyone else here is completely trustworthy."

Draco liked that he was included. He caught a beer and grimaced. "Beer?" he asked, and Blaise laughed.

"Geez. Fine, share with the Child Prodigy and Mr. Happy Drum," he pointed to several bottles of Vodka and Rum. This was more like it.

At this point Harry and Ron stumbled in. "It's flipping freezing outside!" Harry muttered, rubbing his hands together before pulling off his hat. Blaise responded to this comment by mixing a drink and, as he pried his other glove off, Harry accepted it and flopped onto the couch. Ron snatched a drink of his own, and pretty soon they were well on their way to inebriation.

Ron, who was perpetually competitive, tossed a deck of cards on the table. "Who's up for cards!"

Seamus yawned. "Oh please. Boring old cards."

Blaise leered and then smirked. "Who said anything about boring old cards? I'm upping the ante."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "To?"

Blaise grinned and Draco wondered if he was going to like what would come next. "Strip poker."

Seamus sighed in appreciation. "I like your logic. It truly is a classic." They laughed and settled around the table. Dean flipped on the music and they dealt the cards out.

Neville had valiantly attempted to play, but soon realized that not only was he plain not good at cards, but the small amount of alcohol he had ingested was enough to make him too giggly to focus. They opted to make him a mascot and the boy had happily passed out on the sofa.

Ron's keen logic that was only too clear in a chess match was definitely impacted by the alcohol, but of all of them, he had the most clothes. Seamus had promptly lost several games and it wasn't until he was pulling off his shirt that Harry had thrown a cushion at him and ordered him to stop losing on purpose.

Harry was down to his shirt and boxers, and having Harry stripped down like that meant that Draco wasn't faring much better. Blaise was in boxers and socks and singing at the top of his lungs. Harry had attempted at first to get him to quiet down, but in the end Blaise had passed him another drink mixed with perhaps more rum than coke, and Harry had instead opted to join in.

They played until Seamus lost again and happily rose to strip-off his boxers, at which point everyone had cringed and yelled at him to stop. Ron and Dean had wandered off to bed, Ron still muttering about some kind of prize and Dean saying that at least he kept his clothes on.

Draco and Blaise, who were both naughty drunks, were making rude comments and, in response to an especially naughty suggestion, Harry had put his head down on the table and refused to lift it. Blaise had gone pensive and looked at him. "Alright, come on," Blaise coaxed, getting up and hoisting the black-haired boy up off the floor. Draco watched as Blaise steered Harry down the hall into his bedroom and disappeared for a moment.

He tried to pretend that it was not jealousy that was rearing its head within him. When Blaise returned and flopped onto the sofa, Draco looked at him measuringly. "You love him," he stated, and Blaise raised an eyebrow, shifting so that they looked at each other.

"Me? Naw. He's like my brother." They stared at each other a moment more. "But you do," Blaise said simply. Draco opened his mouth to protest but Blaise only smirked at him with an expression that said 'prove me wrong' and went to bed.

Draco stared at Neville for a while, not really seeing Neville but finding that having something to focus on made things easier. When he wandered off to bed, he had an answer to Blaise's statement. And it startled him, and yet settled him in a rather odd fashion.

………………….

Draco and Blaise entered the common room, laughing from a joke Draco had made about their English teacher when Blaise suddenly went serious. Draco heard the music as well and frowned. "Nobody's ever here at this time of day," he said and Blaise cursed in a whisper.

"Draco, grab your stuff, I'll meet you by the gates."

"What's going on?"

Blaise shrugged. "It's the Lacrimosa." As if that answered the question.

Draco snorted. "I know the song, prat. But what is it? A sign of impending death?" Blaise shook his head trying a laugh and, to Draco's ears, only partially succeeding.

"Naw. But just to be safe. I'll only be a second." Draco nodded, and headed to his room.

After over a month of almost constantly being together, Draco had become fast friends with his section-mates, but especially Blaise. After the night at the beginning of the month when Blaise had turned-up with alcohol, there was a certain understanding between them. Somehow Blaise always seemed to be waiting for something from him, and he was never really sure what it was, and yet they understood each other really well.

Ron and Draco would often get in little mock-fights to relieve tension, and Neville, he suspected, was afraid of him because he got-on so well with Professor Snape, and Seamus and Dean were not often there. Crabbe and Goyle, Draco had discovered within his fist week, were bastards, but amazingly amusing to taunt, an art that he had refined, and with Harry's help, they could get some pretty marvelous results.

And then there was Harry.

They were friends, but Draco soon realized that Harry was, despite all outward signs that pointed to the opposite, surprisingly slow to make friends with new people. He spoke and laughed a great deal, and Draco would say they were close, but when he saw how Harry was with Ron or Blaise, he knew he had a ways to go yet. It didn't matter. He was determined.

He grabbed his stuff and had waited by the gate for ten minutes when Blaise ran-up, smiling and they headed on their walk into town. "So what was the Lacrimosa?"

Blaise laughed. "It was an anti-depressant."

Draco nodded. "For who?

"Harry. You learn a lot about your section-mates and that was one of the first things I learned about Harry. The music he listens to reflects his mood." Draco winced and Blaise laughed and nodded. "I know. That's why I was worried. But it's fine. He was just pissed because he had another run-in with Snape."

"What's wrong with that?"

Blaise snorted. "What isn't wrong with that?" Then, noticing Draco's confused look, shrugged. "Harry used to take piano, when he first started here. Snape hated him because, well who knows. My theory is that he was jealous. I mean, not many people can play like Harry."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was a fact he knew very well.

"But you know Harry. Snape started singling him out and seriously breathing down his neck and Harry's usual defensive instincts kicked in and he just wouldn't take that bullshit anymore. It was a full-out war between them that first year. And then Harry switched his second instrument to cello and everyone was happy." Draco chuckled. Then he remembered what he had been meaning to ask Blaise on their walk into town.

"My friend is coming down for the long weekend. I was wondering if you would help me with something." Blaise's interest was peaked, that was obvious, and Draco smirked at the expression. "I want to try to set her up with Ron."

"Is this another attempt to get back at him for something?"

"No! She's my best friend and I think they would make a really funny couple."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at him and nodded. "Okay. I'm in, what do we do?"

-----------------------------------------------

TBC:

Review please!

I would really like to thank everyone who has reviewed. Let me say that you made my day! It was wonderful, and so soon after I had posted as well! I was floating on Cloud 9 for a long while!

Thanks to my beta-readers Goddess Moondragon and JJ and Allohamorah!

-----------------------------------

TEASER:

Draco finds out a little more about Harry

Hermione comes for a visit

Matchmaking ensues

-----------------------------------

Standard disclaimers apply

-----------------------------------

1. I was inspired by Vanessa Mae, so if you're wondering. That piece is exactly what Draco's hearing. And yes, I DO mean electric violin!

2. Don't scoff, I had a piano teacher who would literally do this. Of course, the lid wasn't heavy, but it was still painful. I don't understand why, shouldn't the teacher be concerned about their student's fingers? It's especially important for pianists ... sighs oh well.


	2. Crush

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers   
Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Two: Crush

* * *

By the end of November, Draco had settled into a comfortable schedule, balancing the work (of which there was quite a bit) with play (which Draco really preferred). He had also figured-out his section-mates' time-tables so that he knew when each boy would be where, which was helpful when he wanted solitude to think or when he absolutely couldn't stand the notion of class and needed to know who would be available when. He and Seamus had fled their history class several times in the interest of preserving sanity, unable to face the slow, constant lull of Professor Binn's hypnotic voice.   


By the time the long-weekend drew nearer, there wasn't a single boy in section 2A that wasn't absolutely ready to go into town and get fabulously, rip-roaringly drunk. Draco had been informed in his first class on Monday, (science) that there would be a test to ascertain the class's progress on the Thursday before the break.  
  
Oddly enough, tests had become a pattern for the days prior to the vacation. He had received information about upcoming tests in every one of his classes, including his music classes. Even Snape, in Draco's private session, had quirked his lip at Draco's complaint and responded with: "Why not? I'll expect a piece for our Wednesday session."  
  
Apparently Draco had inspired his piano professor, because Neville returned from his group piano class white as a sheet and shaking, mumbling something about a recital next week. He had locked himself in his room and refused to come-out until Harry and Ron had picked the lock on the door and Harry had disappeared into the room for several hours.  
  
Seamus had been working on an innumerable amount of projects and had yet to finish memorizing the script for the play, which he was presenting on Tuesday after the break. Dean, who had spent most of the month working on a really interesting clay sculpture, had found-out on Wednesday that it had blown-up in the kiln, and the teacher would be deducting marks accordingly. Dean was still utterly depressed, he had wanted to give it to his grandfather, and he had specifically informed his professor that it was not supposed to be kilned.  
  
Blaise had gotten in a really horrible fight with his parents when they rang him up, and had been fuming since. No one really understood what had happened. Ron had snapped his drumsticks and refused to tell anyone how, except to mumble something about 'stupid bloody detention' and 'lousy gits'. Draco had guessed correctly; he and Peter had a fight.  
  
And Harry?   
  
Well, Harry was just Harry ...  
  


* * *

Draco shot wide-awake and blinked.   
  
He had no idea why he was awake. He could not remember if he had had a nightmare, but he didn't seem in a particularly bad-state, except for the small fact that he could not get back to sleep. He groaned and rubbed his eyes before surrendering and getting out of his bed.  
  
Throwing on his marvellous, silk housecoat, Draco slipped out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind him and wandering through the short hall to the the common room. The sight that met him prompted a short gasp, and he stood, staring.   
  
Harry turned from where he sat on the window sill and flashed a small smile. "Sorry, couldn't sleep. Did I wake you?"  
  
Draco wondered how the boy could wake anybody when he was sitting perched on the windowsill and not moving, but settled instead for a shake of the head. "I couldn't sleep, either."   
  
Harry nodded, then picked-up a mug that was sitting by his feet, taking a sip. He looked down at the mug then back at Draco. "Would you like some cocoa?" Draco thought about this and nodded once more. Harry slid off the window sill and walked over to the long table that was supposedly a study area, but that they had been turned into a small kitchenette.   
  
Draco collapsed onto the couch, yawning and stretching a little before settling into a comfortable position. He sighed and let his eyes droop closed.  
  
Harry returned holding the cup close to Draco's face and smiling a crooked smile, and when Draco opened his eyes he jolted then smirked. "Bastard," he mumbled and Harry snorted in laughter before looking around guiltily.   
  
Shuffling to the end of the sofa, Harry shoved at Draco's feet before settling into the corner of the couch and sipping contentedly at his cocoa. Draco shifted a bit so he was sitting more upright and sipped at his mug. "What were you thinking about?"  
  
"You first."   
  
Draco smirked. "I asked first."   
  
Harry yawned. "I was just ... drifting."   
  
Draco smiled thoughtfully at Harry, and he bit his lip.  
  
"Can I ask you a question?" Draco queried and Harry shifted nervously before nodding his head slightly. "I've heard you referred to as a 'special case' more than once. And I was wondering why that was?" Harry gave a short laugh and looked away. Draco began to wonder if he would look back and speak when Harry sighed.  
  
"You probably heard in the paper that my parents and brother died in a car accident two summers ago." It was a statement, but Draco racked his brain and found that he did have some vague memory of his father mentioning that to his mother.  
  
"Vaguely," he said, wanting to hear as much about Harry from him as was possible.   
  
Harry licked his lips. Draco wished he wouldn't do that. "Well ..." Draco noticed that the boy was rubbing at his forehead, and for the first time, Draco noticed a funny scar there. In the back of his mind, Draco had always noticed it, but it had always just seemed like a part of Harry, like Ron's red-hair and freckles, or Neville's slightly rabbit-like front teeth, or Seamus' incessant flirting. Harry had his scar, only now it was like sudden realization.  
  
"You were there. You were with them." Harry blinked, startled, before chewing on his lip and nodding. "Jesus," Draco whispered, sitting up completely and looking with concern at the boy. "What happened?"   
  
To this Harry flashed him a desperate smile. "Now I'm confused. Which question do you want me to answer?"   
  
Draco shook his head, shifting closer to the dark-haired boy. "What happened?"  
  
Harry sighed. "We were driving out to visit my uncle, who lives here. It wasn't even that late or anything, but, there was an oncoming car. The car swerving really badly, it was really obvious that the driver was drunk. I don't really remember much about it. I know my dad tried to avoid the car, but I remember being slammed against the window when we swerved, fighting for a grip on something. I didn't wear a seatbelt and I remember thinking that I was really stupid for not bothering, but then the next thing I knew I was on the pavement, watching as the cars continued skidding. And then I passed-out."   
  
Draco had shifted over, and pulled Harry into a hug, not knowing what else he could do. Harry paused for a moment before taking a breath and starting again. "The police figured that my door was unlocked, and when I was slammed back, after hitting the window, my hand had gripped the door-handle. Since I wasn't wearing a seatbelt, I fell onto the pavement, which saved my life. But I was still injured from the crash and when I fell I cracked my head against the road, that's why I passed out." By the end, Harry's voice had dropped to a hushed whisper. Draco rocked him back-and-forth, stroking his hair in an attempt to comfort him. He smiled slightly as Harry's arms encircled his waste, and he shifted his head to rest more against Draco.  
  
They sat there for a while, and then Harry sighed. "Sorry," he muttered and started to pull away.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him back against his chest, shifting to lean more against the couch. "Stop apologizing. I asked, and I pulled you into this hug so you don't have to feel sorry about it."   
  
There was a contented sigh, and Harry shifted closer. "Thank-you."  


"Don't worry about it." They sat for a few moments longer. "Is that why you're a special case?"  
  
"No. Not exactly. I mean, there are plenty of people here who don't have parents. Neville, for one, he lives with his grandmother. But after the accident, I didn't have anyone left, just my uncle. And my uncle works here, and ... well, he lives here basically. So I'm pretty much considered a ward of the school. All the professors act as a joint parental unit. It's rather amusing, really."  
  
Draco remembered the twinkle in Professor McGonagall's eyes when he had first arrived in October, when the professor had heard Harry playing.  
  
"Some of the teacher's spend their summer here, or around here, and they often give me extra lessons. I've completed my sciences and math credits already. I worked over the summer on my classes, and because of that, I was able to skip several grades. So pretty much for three years I've been taking history and drama and art and music."   
  
Draco was surprised. "Geez. You really are a prodigy, aren't you." He felt Harry squirm and the boy lifted his head up, glaring at Draco until he noticed the smirk on the boy's face, then he rolled his eyes and returned to his prior position.   
  
Draco was lying flat on the couch now, hands still encircling Harry who was sprawled on his chest, situated between his legs. Draco closed his eyes tightly when Harry readjusted his position, but then the boy sighed, and Draco had to admit that he had never been happier. Ever.  
  
"This is nice," Harry murmured, and Draco brushed a strand of hair out of the boy's face and realized that Harry had fallen asleep.

* * *

  
He opened his eyes and blinked several times before the face and the familiar smirk found a match with his memory, and the memory produced a name. "Blaise."   
  
Blaise smirked and then grinned. "I won't ask how your night was. I can guess." Draco frowned before realization dawned. Harry was still curled on him, and he was still holding the boy, one leg propped against the back of the couch, the other entangled with Harry's. He flushed, and Blaise chuckled, before sighing. "I have to say, Draco, it took you long enough to make a move."   
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I didn't make a move. We were talking and then we fell asleep." Blaise nodded with a sarcastic expression and then looked up as Seamus stumbled out of his room, and stopped dead.  
  
"Draco? Harry?" He rubbed his eyes, and then grinned. "Man alive!" He walked closer and grinned wider.  
  
"What?" Draco whinged wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep holding Harry. He knew it probably didn't mean anything, and that was why he was anxious to savour the moment. "What's the big deal?" he grumbled, eyes already drifting shut.  
  
"The big deal? Draco, tell me you noticed!" This was Seamus again, and Draco fixed a glare at him. "Man alive!" Then he sighed and took on a patient expression as if he were speaking to a small child. "Harry is really weird when it comes to contact."   
  
Blaise snorted. "And with good reason," he muttered, Draco turned his head quickly.  
  
"Why?" he asked Blaise, but Blaise only shook his head.  
  
"Not now, Draco. Right now you've got to move before Ron comes out. He'll throw a fit."   
  
"Are they together?" Draco asked, feeling more than a little disappointed.   
  
Seamus snorted with laughter at this comment. "No way. He's like Harry's brother, they've known each other forever. Which means Ron's flippin' protective, so I suggest you move before all hell breaks loose." Draco whinged in complaint and then froze when he realized [he wasn't the only one who was shifting on the couch. Harry, too, was moving.  
  
Draco became suddenly aware of one thing.   
  
And that was that Harry stretched like a cat.   
  
This would be an incredibly seductive thing to watch. The boy, arching his back, sitting on his bent knees, hands stretching forward. But, when this was going on directly on top of you, and your body was already painfully aware of the stretching boy's body, and when the movement was deliciously slow, it was really quite ... distracting.  
  
Another fit of laughter, and Harry blinked open his eyes and came face to face with Draco, both of them blushing again.   
  
"Draco! You should have seen your face!" Blaise hooted, Draco and Harry were sitting there, blushing at each other.  
  
"Hi," Draco managed, and Harry flashed him a relieved look, followed by a crooked grin.  
  
"Sorry."   
  
Draco huffed. "Oh, for the love of ... Don't be. Just ... don't be," he said, and Harry's crooked grin widened a bit more. Draco realized he really liked waking-up like this. Harry shifted and got-up. Draco felt the loss immediately but was relieved when, moments later, Ron came out and spotted Harry. The red head squinted at him suspiciously.  
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Nothing. I'm tired. Nothing happened. I'm going to go shower now." He left, and Ron blinked, taking-in the string of statements that Harry had made all in one breath.  


"What the hell?" Ron asked, and Seamus and Blaise could not contain their laughter. Draco rolled his eyes and went to shower in the other bathroom. All things considered, he was feeling rather good.

* * *

  
Hermione Granger had not changed much in the time since Draco had last seen her. She stood a few inches shorter than Draco and her hair, which was tamer than usual, was pulled-back in a braid. She was smiling.  
  
Draco gave her a hug and smirked at her. "No imaginary friends?" she asked, returning the look and he rolled his eyes.  
  
"Not today. We need to catch-up. Don't you think?"   
  
"Of course I do!" She smiled and hugged him again. "I've missed you. Somehow lurking in the library has lost its sinister feeling without you."  
  
"I'm not sinister! And I've never ... lurked ..."  
  
"Everything about you screams sinister! Especially when you were trying to devise ways of getting revenge on those jerks without actually making it appear as if you were looking for trouble."  
  
He shrugged flippantly. "Well. I try."  
  
"Of course you do. You even succeed sometimes." She quirked an eyebrow and Draco wondered if he had taught her that, or if he had picked it up from her.  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're just going to insult me then I'll just leave you here." He turned around and took a few steps towards the courtyard entrance before spinning around and walking back. "Unless, of course, there's a reason why I should stay."   
  
Hermione Granger huffed herself up to her full height (though she was still shorter than he was) and tossed him a haughty look. "Draco Malfoy, I am your best friend and if you think for a moment that I won't just follow you around and pester you for the rest of the weekend you'd be dead wrong."   
  
He smiled. "Well okay then." He turned as if to go and then glanced back, as if on an after-thought. "Good to have you back." She smiled a little and he led her through the halls, through the courtyard towards his residence.   
  
"So we ARE meeting your imaginary friends."   
  
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Granger, we're meeting my imaginary friends. And we're going to have imaginary tea with my imaginary friends and then we're all going to get together and have one large imaginary ..."  
  
"If you're going to say we're going to have a large imaginary orgy you can just stop it because I've been living quite contentedly without your little innuendos." He smirked, because that had been exactly what he was going to say. But, if he knew his roommates, and he liked to think that he did, he would still get the last laugh. So he bit his tongue and instead he winked at her and muttered. "Be prepared." When he opened the door to the common room, and she rolled her eyes, stepping forward, before bursting into shocked laughter.  
  
Seamus was taunting Blaise who had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a towel around his waiste and was trying to keep a hold of it as Seamus alternately tried to whack him with a damp dish towel and steal the one around the boy's waste. Dean and Neville had yet to wake-up, Ron was playing chess, and Harry was on the couch, reading a book as if this kind of thing happened all the time. Which, come to think of it, it did.  
  
At the sound of her laughter, all action ceased, and she was fixed with four pairs of eyes. Draco stepped forward, throwing an arm around her shoulder and smirking. "Hermione, these are my imaginary friends. Imaginary friends, this is Hermione."   
  
Hermione slapped his arm. "I was joking you giant prat. Now introduce me properly."   
  
Draco gave a long-suffering sigh and stepped forward, winking at Blaise, who gestured towards Ron and mouthed 'best for last'. "Hermione, this is Harry." Harry dropped the book and stood, offering a hand, which Hermione accepted. She sent a meaningful glance towards Draco and he rolled his eyes and stepped towards Seamus."This is Seamus, and that's Blaise, keep your distance, we're not really certain if insanity is contagious but we're not taking chances. And this, is Ron."   
  
Ron flushed and smiled. "Er. Hi," he said, shaking the offered hand. Hermione flushed a little as well, and Draco flashed the thumbs-up to Blaise, who did it back and had to pretend he was inspecting his nails when Hermione looked back around the room.  
  
"Pleasure," she said. "Draco's spoken a lot about you." Blaise took the opportunity to make a silent exit and when he returned a bit later, he was fully clothed, much to everyone's relief.  
  
"There's two more. And then there are the two louts who room across from me, but we won't be going anywhere near them so it should be fine." She shook her head and then turned to the task of finding as much about everyone as possible. When Dean and Neville stumbled out Draco introduced them.  
  
"So, Draco. What did you have planned to do today?" Hermione asked, with an eyebrow raised.   
  
Draco shrugged. "Well, I'm not entirely certain." He looked around, not knowing what his roommates had to do. Blaise caught the look and answered the unspoken question.  
  
"Seamus and I are actually off to rehearse with our group. Small production next week, you know how it is. We should be back for four."  
  
Seamus nodded and stood. "Lovely meeting you, Hermione. We'll see you later?" She nodded and watched the two boys go. Draco caught Blaise's eye and followed his gaze to where Ron still sat, looking awkward. Ron was staring at Hermione smiling lopsidedly as if he were musing to himself about something.  
  
"I have a practice in ten minutes," Harry said, simultaneously attempting to stifle a yawn and grin at Hermione. "Which means I better get my violin."  
  
"Little Mischief?" Draco asked. Harry spun around with a look of total and complete surprise on his face. "Dean told me. First day here, actually," Draco explained.  
  
"Little Mischief?" Hermione inquired, sitting forward and looking at Harry closely. She was running through all the letters Draco had sent her thus far and mentally drawing a finger under each line where he had mentioned this dark-haired boy.  
  
"My ..." Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry. My electric violin."   
  
Hermione gaped. "Electric?" Harry nodded. "Violin?" Harry nodded again. "Do you - would you play?" Harry glanced around and Draco wondered if it was because he was uncomfortable or if it was because he didn't want to run late for his practice. He decided not to pressure the boy.  
  
"Why do you have practice today, anyway? It's a long-weekend."   
  
Harry shrugged. "Pereskew asked if I would mind, and I didn't. Everyone's pretty much busy, and I needed to have a make-up lesson since I'm missing one next week for the art trip."   
  
Draco nodded, he remembered Harry mentioning that. "Are you, then?" he asked, eyebrow quirking.  
  
"Am I what?" Harry asked, clearly confused.  
  
"Playing Little Mischief?"  
  
"Honestly, why do you all call it that? No, today is a lesson day."   
  
Draco glanced at Hermione then back at Harry. "Would you mind if we sat in?" Harry had gone a bit red, and Draco was smirking. He wanted to hear Harry again. He had not heard the boy play solo in a long while, and he wanted to let Hermione know what he had been talking about.   
  
"I'm in the conservatory today, so I guess ... if you sat at the back..." Draco couldn't believe it. He grinned because he really didn't think that letting out a triumphant yip and doing a dance (which was what he felt like doing) was quite appropriate.  
  
"Wonderful. Get your violin then. Dean, Ron, what are you going to be doing with yourselves?" Dean and Ron both looked a bit startled, as if they had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Ron, Draco knew, had good reason. The way he had been staring at Hermione was a little obvious, but Dean had just been drifting.  
  
Dean shrugged. "I'm finishing my assignments today, because I plan to party the weekend away. How 'bout you, mate?" He clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder and Ron looked a little exasperated. Draco wondered if he should invite the red-head to join them or if that would be pushing it too fast. He wanted to speak with Hermione, after all, they were best-friends and hadn't seen each other in a while.  
  
"Well, erm. Actually, I've got practice as well."  
  
"Really?" He quirked an eyebrow. "For what?" Ron was in advanced percussion and that didn't involve any extra-schedules, especially not ones on the weekend.  
  
"Well, I don't only play drums, you know." Draco perked up. He had never asked what Ron's second instrument was.  
  
"What, then?"  
  
"The ... erm. The cello actually."   
  
Hermione was suddenly smiling broadly. "I've always loved the cello!" she said, and Ron flushed even more. Draco wondered if he would be able to convince the red-head to put on a little show for them later. Obviously he was quite good if he had solo classes.  
  
"You'll have to play for us, Ron." Ron blushed even more and looked at the floor.  
  
"Shite!" Came a cry, and Harry came flying out of his room. "Dammit, Ron! Is your sister in her room?" he asked, frantically.  
  
"No. She's gone into town. What is it, Harry?" Ron seemed torn between confusion and concern.  
  
"My music! She never gave it back! Shite! I'm going to be late! Gawd, this is a nightmare!" he cried, flying out of the dorm room, then racing back in. "Bloody violin!" he cried and snatched-up the case before flying back out again.  
  
"Mental, that one," Ron muttered, and Hermione chuckled.   
  
Draco urged her up. "We'd better go. It will be harder for us to waltz in mid-way through the lesson."   
  
She nodded and extended a hand to Ron. "See you later?" she asked, and he flushed again when he grasped her hand and shook it.  
  
"Er - yeah." Draco felt like laughing maniacally. He KNEW it! He felt like cheering, but instead he ushered Hermione back through the courtyard and into the conservatory where he had first seen Harry.   
  
They took a seat at the back so they didn't disturb anyone and Draco smirked when Harry explained about his music to Madame Pereskew.  
  
"Oh really, Harry. It's nothing to fuss over. We'll work on the songs you know." Madame Pereskew was a rather tall and shockingly slim woman. Draco thought she was an awful lot like a female counterpart of Snape, except that she was really quite nice, and she really played with a great deal of passion, and she was not at all slimy looking. Her black hair was pulled back in a twist and held with a pair of dark red chopsticks. Her black skirt was long and matched her black shirt.  
  
Draco thought maybe Harry's tendency to wear black when he played came from her, but then, it might just be that he liked wearing formal performance attire. Today he was in black pants and a white shirt. He was frantically rolling the sleeves of his shirt and trying to unpack.  
  
"I'm really sorry, Professor," he said, and Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"He's really quite sweet," Hermione muttered, and Draco swatted her arm. "It's a bit annoying, really," she added, and he chuckled. Harry had gotten out his violin and was tuning it, moving swiftly into a few warm-up scales. "How are you finding classes?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You know how it is. Normal classes are really dull, but one must suffer through these things." He put on his favourite martyr expression and she rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Yes. No one suffers more than poor Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Do shut up, Granger."  
  
"No. I don't think I will," she said with her nose in the air and sniffed.  
  
"Anyway, piano is interesting, only ..."   
  
She caught his frown and tossed him a frustrated look. "What?"  
  
"Well ... Professor Snape reminds me of my father."  


"Oh dear."  
  
"I know. So it's not terribly conducive to, well ..."  
  
"You don't feel relaxed enough when you play."   
  
"Something like that."  
  
"Don't worry. We'll think of something."  
  
"You always do. Wait, hold on," he said, turning his attention back to the stage where Pereskew was speaking to Harry. " Rimsky-Korsakov?" he muttered. "She's getting him to play the Flight of the fecking Bumblebee?"   
  
Hermione was smirking at him. "Language, Draco. And anyway, you said he was good." She looked forward demurely and watched as Harry prepared to play.  
  
"Deep breaths. Settle yourself. And then play," Pereskew was saying, and Draco watched as Harry became very still, poised perfectly prepared to play, and Draco wondered what the hell it was going to sound like.   
  
When Harry started, Draco almost wanted to laugh. The boy stubbornly refused to open his eyes, his fingers moving swiftly around the fingerboard, and his bow moving in short staccato strokes.  
  
"No scrubbing, Potter! I want each note distinct!" Draco didn't think Harry was scrubbing, but he noticed that instead of a frown of concentration, Harry seemed to relax a bit more into the music, as if he were settling himself into it and trusting himself. Draco had never thought of music as an experience of trust. "Feel it! What does each note mean?" It was a rhetorical question, but somehow Harry answered it, and Draco felt dizzy with the music and with how quickly Harry's fingers found each placement so rapidly, not even stumbling or straying out of tune.   
  
He turned to watch Hermione who was looking slightly stunned, and, when Harry finally stopped, laughing as he let his violin drop to his side and letting his bow dangle loosely from his fingers, listening to Pereskew's critique, Draco turned to her, an amused expression on his face, and with an 'I told you so' in his eyes he asked. "What did you think?"  
  
"He's not bad," she mumbled, then turned and grinned.

* * *

  
  
"I want to get drunk," Seamus said on Saturday and everyone rolled their eyes. 

"Seamus, you always want to get drunk," Neville pointed out, and everyone agreed.  
  
"Yeah, but that's because we never do. I keep wishing, but my wish is never granted," he cried and flopped dramatically in an impression of a swoon. Dean took a step back, letting him land with a smack on the floor. "Bloody git," Seamus muttered, as he picked himself up.  
  
"Well, Seamus might have a point," Blaise said, and winked at Draco. Draco smirked back. "I mean, there's a nice little club that plays Big Band and sometimes some swing as well. I found it in town. We could go there." Everyone seemed to think about this and no one objected.  
  
"We could catch a movie first. You know. Make it an all-day thing," Ron suggested, and then flushed. Something he had been doing a lot of. Draco wished he would stop it, it wasn't helping him look attractive, though Hermione seemed to find it endearing. It was rather nauseating, really.  
  
"Brilliant," Draco said. But Neville pointed to the window.  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, it's snowing. I'm not walking in that," he mumbled. Draco was about to suggest a new plan of staying in and getting drunk illegally in their dorm room, perhaps playing naughty games, when Harry shrugged and continued to put on his coat.  


"That's not a problem. We'll drive." Draco stared at the boy, Harry had never mentioned having a car before. Then Draco remembered what Harry said several weeks ago.  


"Your uncle," Draco stated, and Harry grinned.  
  
"My uncle."

* * *

  
Draco had never been to the Art room. Or rather, the Art floor. The classrooms on the floor were abundant, but this one was really quite nice It was mostly windows, and overlooked the woods. With the snow falling, Draco thought that even he felt inclined to sketch, and he really didn't have a penchant for it.   
  
Harry had already walked into the room and was looking around expectantly. "Maybe he's not here," Draco ventured, but Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"No, he's here. He's probably in the pit." Draco didn't think that name sounded very comforting, he watched as Harry walked to a small door. That looked as if it led to a broom closet. To his surprise, when Harry opened it, it led into a nice-sized room that was cluttered with artwork. At the end of the room, there were glass doors, the only source of natural light, and they opened onto a nice balcony.   
  
At first, Draco didn't see the man, but after he'd taken another step down the stairs a head popped out from behind a rather large wire sculpture of a strange creature that seemed like a cross between a bird, a dragon and a water serpent. The man had black hair, just like Harry's, and he grinned as soon as he saw the boy.  
  
"Come for a visit?" he asked, and Harry rushed down the stairs and, ignoring the smock, which was covered in paint that may or may not have been wet, gave his uncle a hug.  
  
"Actually, my motives are not exactly pure," Harry said with an impish grin, and Draco snorted when the man clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"That's my boy!" he cried and Harry laughed.  
  
"I was wondering if I could get the keys to the car? A few friends and I were heading in to town for the day."   
  
The man looked at Harry closely and then nodded. "Roads are slippery, drive safe."  
  
"I will." And the man tossed a set of keys at Harry before looking up and noticing Draco for the first time. Harry followed his gaze and looked startled, as if he had forgotten Draco was there. "Oh, sorry. Draco, this is my uncle Sirius. Sirius, this is the new section-mate I mentioned, Draco Malfoy." Sirius wiped his hands on his smock, even though they were clean since he was working only with wire, and extended a hand to Draco. Draco stepped down the last few steps and shook it.  
  
"Good to meet you," Sirius said, and Draco nodded. "Well, have a good time," Sirius said. Harry nodded before thanking him for the keys.  
  
"Do you want me to shut the door?" he asked, and Sirius waved a hand, already absorbed in his art again. Harry shut the door with a click.

"He's a little strange," Draco stated, not certain what it had been about the man. Harry shrugged.  
  
"Yeah, I don't think he ever broke out of his teens. But he's really an excellent artist and he spoils me rotten so I really can't complain," Harry said with another impish grin. Draco laughed and they headed back to the front hall where the rest of the group was waiting.  


* * *

They trudged out into the snow, bundled-up, talking and laughing wildly. Harry led them down a small path that Draco had never noticed before and they broke out into a small parking lot. "Which one?" he asked when he noticed the various vehicles, Harry grinned at him.   
  
"That one." He pointed to a red Nissan truck that was parked beneath a tree.  
  
"Your uncle drives an Xterra?" Draco asked, with a slightly amused grin."It doesn't really seem his style."  
  
"That's because it's not. This is mine. I got it for my birthday last year when I finally completed my license," Harry said and unlocked the truck for them. It had black leather interior and Draco promptly called shot-gun, trusting Blaise to do some quick maneuvering and fix-it so Hermione and Ron had to sit together.   
  
Harry slid in to the driver's seat and Draco noted that he put on his seatbelt. "Who brought music?" Draco asked, turning around and looking expectantly at everyone.  
  
"I did. It's a good thing someone knows what they're doing," Seamus said, preening slightly. Dean and Blaise smacked him in the head.  
  
"Well, fork-it-over you barmy leprechaun, before I am forced to gut you." Seamus passed the case up and Draco settled into his seat, flipping through. "Crap," he stated and flipped the page. "Crap," he said again and flipped to a different page.  
  
"You, Draco Malfoy, are a bastard," Seamus whined, and Draco promptly called another page crap and flipped to a new one.   
  
"No. I am just very honest. Crap. Don't you have anything other than this whimpy crap in here? I mean, this is terrible!" Seamus pouted and Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh. Thank the Lord!" Draco said, fishing a Cd from it's place. "This has potential." He flicked the volume up and grinned maniacally. "Bring on the clubbing spirit!"  
  
They pulled out of the parking lot and were driving down a very nice deserted road. It was really quite picturesque out.  
  
Harry glanced at Blaise in the rearview. "Directions?" he asked.  
  
"I thought we were checking out a movie first!" Dean cried, and Harry nodded.   
  
The trip was full of blaring music, singing and idiotic comments made purposely to provoke great laughter. Draco noticed, with a certain amount of glee, that Ron and Hermione did not join-in with most of it, opting to speak quietly to one another. He turned around in his seat to throw a sarcastic comment back and Dean and caught Blaise's triumphant smirk. When he turned back Harry looked over at him with an amused expression.  
  
"You certainly are scheming."   
  
"What?" Draco blinked innocently.  
  
"You're setting them up."   
  
"I am not," Draco said, feigning an affronted look. And then smiled. "Maybe a little. But come on! Look at them!" he whispered, and Harry glanced at them through the rear-view. Then he looked back at Draco with a serious look, though his eyes still shone with amusement.  
  
"What's your goal?"  
  
"My goal?" Draco blinked.  
  
"Yeah, when she leaves, what do you want to have accomplished?"  
  
"I want them to be a couple," Draco stated with certainty and watched as Harry glanced back into the rearview.  
  
"It won't happen. There's not enough time and Ron is too shy," Harry said thoughtfully, and then a grin spread across his face. "Unless ..."  
  
"What?" Draco asked, liking that look.  
  
"Just a bit of something classic. Trust me," Harry said, and grinned in such a way that Draco couldn't help grinning back. He was reminded of what it felt like to have Harry stretching, cat-like, on-top of him and turned his head quickly towards the window to avoid his blush being caught.

"Okay," he said to his reflection, and knew that he did.  
  


* * *

TBC   
-------------------------- 

I really hope everyone is enjoying the fic so far. I would really like more reviews! They make my day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
  


Thanks to Wonapalei for catching my mistake about the composer of Flight of the Bumblebee! I'm writing without my resources being caught out here without music. I actually started writing because I really REALLY miss my cello, and this sort of came-out from one of my "Lacrimosa" moments (yes, that's where that came from.) Thanks again! 

This chapter is dedicated to Alle for helping me iron-out a few details that may have resulted in the early demise of this fic.  


* * *

  
TEASER: 

* * *

The gang goes to the club  
The little green demon makes an appearance  
Draco gets a clue 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. The Green Reaction

**Title: **_Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Three:** The Green Reaction

-

"Alright. Who the hell was responsible for _that_" Dean cried as they got back into the car after the movie. Everyone looked around expectantly and Neville blushed crimson.

"But the title sounded good" he protested.

"Yeah, it sounded wonderful ... please, let's never let Neville pick movies anymore. And, come to think of it, lets never let him pick the music either. In fact, Neville, we love you, but never make a decision that will affect us at all" Seamus cried and made a dramatic show of rubbing his temples. "I need a drink" he whinged, and was promptly smacked in the head by Blaise and Dean.

"I didn't think it was too bad" Ron commented, and was fixed with shocked stares from everyone in the vehicle. Except Harry, who was driving, and Hermione, who was smiling.

"Neither did I" she said, and patted his arm. "I thought it was okay."

"Urgh. Fluffiness abounds in this vehicle" Blaise said and leaned forward. "Harry, we have to decontaminate your truck." Harry laughed and shook his head.

The drive from the theatre to the club was not long, or wouldn't have been, if Neville and Dean hadn't decided that they were dying slowly of starvation and forced everyone to pick-up a snack. It was dark out by the time they got there, and everyone was impatient and ready for alcohol. They stormed the club happily and occupied a corner booth.

"Neville, you're not ordering milk, that's embarrassing" Blaise said.

"But last time I drank, I barely lasted an hour before I fell asleep" Neville whinged, and Ron patted his friend's back comfortingly.

"It's okay, get a virgin drink." Neville blinked blankly at him, and Ron sighed. "I'll order for you, okay, Nev"

"Sure. Thanks Ron."

"No problem."

Blaise smirked. "Hey, Nev. You're a sleepy drunk"

"I guess. What other options are there" he asked, looking confused and genuinely interested. The waitress showed-up and they placed their orders and Blaise settled back as if he were about to educate a class of eager children.

"Well, I am a wise and all-knowing drunk" Blaise stated calmly, and everyone sniggered.

"Yes. That's what that is" Ron muttered, and Blaise looked affronted before he smirked.

"Blaise, stop being an arse. You and everyone else here knows you are a lewd and lecherous drunk" Draco commented and everyone, except Hermione who was in no position to know such things, nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But you, sir, are not one to talk, seeing as you are a horrible flirt when you're drunk."

Draco pretended to be shocked. "But I'm _always_ a horrible flirt" he said, and Hermione snickered.

"It's true. That's hardly different from his usual temperament" she said, and Blaise looked serious and nodded knowingly.

"Okay, a horrible flirt who is also horribly dirty-minded and no longer has his social filter in place like he does when he's sober" Blaise amended.

Hermione nodded. "That sounds like a drunk Draco to me."

Draco looked appalled. "Okay then. Hermione, you are one of those really horribly loud and obnoxious drunks."

"But, Draco, all drunks are like that" Seamus said, blinking innocently.

"Not as much as Hermione" Draco said.

"Well. I'm incredibly sweet when I'm drunk" Seamus said, drawing attention to himself.

"No, Seamus ... we don't know what you are when you're drunk, but it certainly isn't sweet." Seamus gaped and smacked Dean.

"Coming from the stupid drunk" Seamus muttered.

"And Ron's a competitive drunk" Blaise said, trying to draw Hermione's attention back to where he and Draco wanted it.

"I am not" The boy was turning red again.

"You are. Actually, you're like that anyway, it just gets really magnified." Draco looked over at Harry in surprise, and Harry smirked and passed his glass over to the red head. "Sorry, it's true" he said to Ron's surprised expression. "Want a sip" he asked, and Ron shrugged and took a sip from his friend's drink.

"That's really good. What's in it" Ron asked, sipping again.

"Dunno. I just asked for the Special." Harry took the drink back and sipped at it before perking-up. "Luna is here." Everyone turned to see a tall skinny girl at the bar. Draco noticed immediately that her eyes were on Harry but brushed it off. Of course they would be on Harry, the two obviously knew each other.

"Oh great" Dean whined. "She's absolutely strange" he added and Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'll just go say hello" he said and scooted out of the booth. Draco turned his attention away from the dark-haired boy and Glenn Miller's "Sing, Sing, Sing" came on.

He smirked at Hermione. "Anxious to get out onto the dance floor" he asked, and she grinned. If there was one thing Hermione liked, it was dancing. Especially swing.

"Yes, please" she said and scooted out quickly, accepting Draco's hand and followed him out. When they were a ways away from the table, Hermione smirked at her friend.

"Enjoying yourself" she asked, and Draco smirked back at her.

"Oh yes. You" He picked her up and she somersaulted in the air. He placed her back on the ground and she laughed.

"Of course. You know I always enjoy your efforts to set me up." He frowned at her and she laughed. "I'm not daft, Draco."

"Well, it was worth a shot." He spun her out and then pulled her back. "So, what do you think"

"I like him" she said, and Draco laughed and picked her up, swinging her out to one side, then the other, then putting her down again.

"Good, because he likes you, too" he said, and she looked at him a little breathless.

"Gawd. I forgot how good you were at this" she said, and he relented, giving her a moment to catch her breath and spinning around holding her close. She looked at him with a funny look and asked hesitantly. "Really? You mean it" She was blushing slightly and Draco nodded.

"It's really obvious."

"He doesn't seem as if he's going to do anything though. I mean, make a move." Draco glanced back at the booth and immediately spotted the blue eyes focused on him darkly.

"That's my problem. Don't worry about it" Draco said and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Honestly, Draco, I can do it. Girls aren't just there to sit around and look pretty until some dashing knight comes and swoops her away."

"First, Ron is not a knight, and never speak to me about your sordid fantasies again. Second, I'm quite aware of the strength innate in all females but that's not the point. If you make the first move, then you're always going to be making the first move. He's got to figure it out for himself and decide himself whether you're worth possible embarrassment but long-term joy." Before she could respond he had he in the air again, and when she touched back down she was grinning.

"What have you got planned"

"Absolutely nothing. But Harry has something."

She smiled coyly at him and batted her eyelashes. "When's the wedding, Draco"

"Fuck off" he said, and the song ended and they went back to the table. Draco helped Hermione to her seat and spotted Harry and Luna talking on the other side of the club. "I'll be right back" he said.

"Where are you going" Hermione asked with a knowing lilt in her voice, which Draco ignored and walked off hearing Blaise's comment,

"Honestly, he's had three drinks. Where do you think he's going"

He made his way over to the dark-haired teen and noticed that he seemed very tense, even if he was pretending not to be. He smiled to himself and tapped Harry on the shoulder. The boy spun around and then smiled a little. "Draco. This is Luna Lovegood." Draco recognized her as the girl who was a part of the improvisation club that Seamus and Harry and Blaise were a part of. He shook her hand and she smiled, eyes still on Harry. Draco was starting to feel a bit protective.

"So, anyway, Luna. Are you here alone" Harry asked.

Luna batted her eyelashes. "Want to make a move, Harry" she asked coyly and Draco gritted his teeth, surprised when Harry merely laughed.

"No, but who is it"

"It's Jake" she said and Harry nodded approvingly.

"Perfect. Can I borrow him" he asked, and both Draco and Luna looked at him open-mouthed. "Er, it's for a very good cause" Harry said, and Draco realized what Harry was planning.

"What for" Luna asked skeptically, and Harry outlined the plan. "Alright" she said and went over to a booth where a boy with brown hair, who was tall and fairly handsome smiled and, after a rushed conversation, followed Luna back over.

"Heya, Harry. So, you want to employ my abilities."

"If you don't mind" Harry said, matching the boy's grin.

"Not at all. Anything for a friend" Jake said jovially and rubbed his hands together. "Who's the lucky lady" he asked, and Harry nodded his head towards their booth. "Good. What's my cue then"

"Well, I'll get Hermione out on the dance floor, and when we get back, come over" Harry said, and Draco was smirking at Harry's planning.

"Do you want subtle and delicate, or blatantly obvious" Jake asked, and Draco figured he must have been in the acting course.

"Well, this is Ron" Harry said, and Jake nodded knowingly.

"Blatantly obvious it is, then. Right. I'm ready when you are" he said, and Harry nodded, motioning Draco back to the booth.

"Do you not like to dance, Hermione" Harry asked, and Hermione looked up.

"I love to dance, but only Draco's asked me." Harry flashed a meaningful look at Ron, who flushed and stared into his drink. _I Got Rhythm_ came on and Harry smirked to himself.

"Well then, would you like to" Draco bit his lip and occupied himself with a long sip from his drink and Hermione grinned and nodded, hopping out of the booth and accepting the extended hand.

It was a relatively slow song, and Draco couldn't help but watch them dance. They really looked good together, and the thought made him sad and frustrated. Harry could really dance.

"Is this part of your plan" Hermione asked quietly and Harry grinned.

"No. My plan starts when you get back to the table. If I know Ron, and I think that seventeen years would mean that I know at least a little, he's going to just sit there and blush and nothing will come of this whatsoever. But, he's rather competitive, and when you get a few drinks in him..."

"So I should be expecting an unsubtle suitor" she asked, amused.

"Yes. Something like that" Harry said and she chuckled.

"Draco was right, you know" she said thoughtfully, and Harry blinked at her.

"What"

"Nothing." He looked at her for a moment and then nodded. "It's good to have met you" she said and Harry wondered if she meant for her to have met him or Draco, he really hoped she meant Draco, but one could never be certain. "You dance really well," she said, and Harry grinned.

"Loads of practice. Big Band was all my dad used to play." He smiled at the memory before the song ended and they headed back to the booth.

Hermione had just settled into a conversation with Ron when Jake walked over and smiled at her.

"I couldn't help but notice you" he purred and Hermione flushed despite her being prepared for something like this. "Someone as lovely as you should be out dancing. Care to" He extended a hand, and when she accepted it, he kissed it, glancing at her alluringly before leading her out onto the dance floor.

Harry looked at Draco, then at Ron, and then glanced back. Ron had turned a bit redder and was staring at the couple.

"That bastard" Ron fumed.

"Now, Ron. Hermione does like to dance. And no one else was dancing with her" Harry said calmly, and Draco wondered how Harry could be so calm when Ron was the color of his hair, fists clenched and looking really quite angry.

"Yeah but ... he saw us. She was here with me" Ron growled.

"Were you dancing with her, Ron? Were you doing anything other than talking to her in a completely casual manner" Harry asked, and Draco noticed that Dean and Seamus had slipped out of the booth and were on the dance floor with two random girls they had picked-up. And Neville was slowly edging out of the booth looking anxious, and Blaise was smirking at Ron.

"No but..."

"Well, then, you're in no position to complain. Hermione was sitting right here. If you felt that way, you should have asked her."

"I know but..."

"But nothing. It's too late now. Jake's going to make a move" Harry said and glanced over at Hermione, who was blushing, and Jake who was whispering in her ear and dancing quite close to her, and generally putting on quite a show. Harry was happy that the song was slow; it would make it harder on Ron.

"What" Ron cried.

"Well, he's taking initiative, now, isn't he" Harry said, as if he were explaining something to a toddler. Draco was trying not to laugh as he watched the interaction between the two boys.

"But I wanted..." Ron started pitifully.

"What" Harry looked blankly at the boy. It was priceless.

"I like her" Ron said, and looked into his glass.

"Good" Harry said, and turned back to his drink, sipping it casually.

"Good"

"Yes. Now go over there and interrupt their dance before he starts snogging her, and cut-in."

"I can't do that" Ron said, still staring sullenly into his drink.

"Ron. Look at them." Ron looked up and went red again. He kept watching them and Harry took the opportunity to lean closer and whisper, quite coolly"Snogging." The reaction was immediate. Ron stood up, stepped-over Neville to get out of the booth. He walked over to Hermione and spoke some vehement words to Jake, who shrugged and managed a dejected look before stepping aside. Ron took Hermione and began dancing with her. Jake flashed the thumbs-up to them and Harry waved.

"That was brilliant" Draco murmured in surprise, and Harry laughed.

"The trick is to know how to handle him."

"Excellent" Blaise said. "That's another down. Six more to go."

"What" Draco asked.

"That's another one of our section happily matched."

"Who's the other"

"Neville" Blaise said, and Neville blushed.

"Neville, you dog" Draco said, and the boy flushed more. "Who is she"

"Ginny" Neville muttered, and Draco frowned.

"Does Ron know"

"'Course" Neville said.

"Well, good for you. And Blaise" Blaise looked over. "Don't count Crabbe and Goyle, please. I really don't think we could ever set them up successfully."

"Okay." Blaise looked across the way and frowned. "Harry, Loony is trying to get your attention."

Harry glanced over and sighed. "I'll be back. And don't call her that."

"You know damn well it's true" Blaise huffed, and rolled his eyes as Harry walked away. "Been after that boy since he was thirteen" Blaise explained with a dark look on his face, and Draco snorted.

"She doesn't hide it at all" Draco commented, and Blaise nodded.

"And still, the boy is oblivious" Blaise sighed. "But, Hermione and Ron are looking happy."

"Mmhm. Hermione already told me that she appreciated the gesture. I think Harry might have told her about the little plan."

"I was wondering what was going on. I mean, Jake has always liked Luna."

"There's an interesting little triangle" Draco said wryly and then frowned when he spotted Harry across the way, looking very tense again. Luna was laughing and had a hand on his arm.

Blaise noticed Draco's expression and followed his gaze over and he snorted. "She's at it again" he said. In truth, he was prepared to go over there and break it up. He knew Harry better than anyone, with the exception of Ron, and Blaise knew that tense look that was smoothed over by a nervous smile. But Blaise also knew Draco, and so he bit his tongue, wondering what would happen.

"Well, I'm sure Harry can take care of himself" Draco commented and quickly sipped at his drink, toying with the straw sullenly.

"Of course. So, when did you meet Hermione" Blaise said, noticing that Draco's eyes continued to stray over to the corner where Harry was.

"Well ... I was in ninth grade and starting at my new ... my new school and ... Excuse a minute, will you" Draco asked casually and Blaise nodded but Draco was already up and out of the booth, walking very calmly over to Luna and Harry.

Blaise wanted to growl when he saw Luna leaning in, a hand on Harry's chest, giggling and not even noticing Harry's panicked expression. The boy was too polite for his own good, he should have just smacked her hand away, but then again Harry had changed after...

"Harry, there you are" Draco said casually but coolly, glaring at Luna before smiling at Harry. He noticed the oddly panicked and yet relieved look in those green eyes and wondered what was going on.

"Draco" the boy said tightly, and Draco sighed.

"Well, are you coming back to the table? Blaise was just thinking about ordering a snack" he lied easily. He remembered waking-up with the boy lying comfortably sprawled over him. Was it just this girl? Or was it just him?

As a test, Draco reached out a hand and gently placed it on Harry's shoulder. Harry's panicked look vanished and submitted completely to one of relief. Draco glared at Luna and she removed the hand from Harry's chest.

"Can I..." she started, but Draco stopped her.

"I saw Jake waiting for you by the bar." He looked at her coldly and pointedly raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Bye, Harry." Harry didn't even say good-bye, he just sort of nodded and walked hurriedly over to the booth, sliding all the way to the back and, noticing this, Draco took the seat on the other side of him so that Harry could have protection on both sides of him.

"Why didn't you just tell her to sod-off if she was bothering you" he asked, feeling more than a little frustrated and confused.

"She didn't know. She was just being friendly" Harry explained, and Draco rolled his eyes, he was about to retort when Harry smiled a little. "Thanks" he said, and Draco couldn't bring himself to be angry with the boy.

"You missed Ron groping your friend" Blaise said, and Harry and Draco snickered.

"That worked out better than expected" Harry murmured, and they watched as Ron and Hermione, smiling and laughing, danced.

They stayed at the club for a long while. Neville was falling asleep, and Seamus was actually acting calm, and Blaise, who had been refraining from alcohol, took the keys Harry offered and ushered everyone to the car. When they got outside the world was completely white and there was a comfortable chill in the air that always accompanied fresh snow, not too cold but enough to bite.

They clambered into the car while Blaise dusted the snow off it and then headed back. The drive back was completely different, quiet and relaxing. The only people who weren't lulled into a sleepy state were Ron, who was too preoccupied with Hermione cuddled close to him "for warmth" and Blaise, who was driving and hadn't entertained the notion of falling asleep at the wheel. He dropped Hermione off at the inn she was staying at and they returned to school at around two, stumbling and laughing through the snow and finally reaching their rooms, most of them fell asleep without changing.

……………………..

"Will you play for me" she whispered, and Ron went red.

"What are you naughty things doing over there" Seamus teased and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Nothing, Seamus." She turned back to Ron, and he nodded.

"Er ... I'll just get my cello. Uhm. The conservatory is probably the best place." She nodded and watched as he ran-out quickly to his room. Draco emerged, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Good Lord. You are here early" he said, and promptly set-about making coffee.

"Well, it is my last day here. " She stood and hugged her old-friend close. "Thanks so much, Draco" she said, and he smiled and leaned back into the hug before shrugging.

"Honestly, it was as much for me as it was for you. The incessant pining was giving me a migraine" he muttered before pouring a mug of coffee and settling himself on the sofa.

Ron came out of his room with his cello-case slung on his shoulder, and smiled shyly at Hermione. "Er" he said, and she grinned, taking his free arm and ushering him to the door.

"We'll be back later" she said over her shoulder, ignoring Draco's muttered statement of "Much later." and shut the door quietly behind them.

……………………..

"Any requests" he asked as he settled himself onto the stool and adjusted his endpin. The blasted thing was never right. When he was younger, he used to draw a line so he could remember where it should be pulled-out to but eventually, with all the growth-spurts, the blasted thing had been given a new line every time he practiced and he'd stopped.

Hermione, who was perched on the edge of the stage with a leg dangling off the side shrugged. "I don't know... Actually, I don't know much about strings."

"What do you play" Ron asked once he had settled the cello in place.

"Flute" she said, and Ron smiled.

"I've always liked the flute" Ron replied, and then, after a moment of contemplating this new fact. "You'll have to play for me" he said in a hesitant voice, but Hermione grinned at him.

"I'd like that" she said, and meant it. "Now. Play." He laughed and then thought about what he might play. He remembered the song his mother always loved and quickly did a mental run through. He could not screw this piece up.

"Okay. I'm going to play _The Swan_, by Saint-Saens." He plucked a few notes to check the tuning. He had, of course, already checked it but the cello could have gone out of tune while he was talking. He mentally kicked himself in the head for being so nervous. The main thing was relaxing and trusting himself, he was good at this.

The song was slow and restful, and it always left Ron feeling very calm. He closed his eyes as he played, just feeling his way through the piece, reminding himself not to rush, that his heart was not a metronome, that this had to be played right.

When he finished she sat for a moment with her eyes closed, as if she still tasted the music, and Ron felt oddly calm. He just watched her as she sat, and was startled when she spoke. "What the story behind that"

"Pardon"

"The story. When you played, I could tell there was a story behind it."

He smiled. "My mother, when she was pregnant with me had this record she would always play, with all-sorts of classical music on it that was compiled for the specific purpose of soothing babies. She used to play it when I was very little as well. When I was choosing an instrument, my first choice was cello. I just ... loved the sound. I'd been playing for several years. I was working on the _Humoresque_(1) when my teacher said I'd mastered it and to move on to the next piece, which was _The Swan_. I played it through once, perfectly, or pretty much perfectly. I barely even needed the music! My teacher was really surprised, I was never much good at site reading. (2) When I spoke to my mum about it she had laughed and smiled as if she knew it all along and said that it was because I'd heard it so often that the notes just sunk into my head. This song is second-nature to me."

"That's really lovely. And the way you played was really moving." Ron was blushing full out now and he couldn't help it. He stood and began to pack his things away and when he had just slung his cello-case over his shoulder Hermione stepped forward and kissed him, light and sweet, but a kiss just the same. "Will you write to me" she asked, when she had broken the kiss. He took in air for a moment, before smiling.

"Of course."

…………………….

"Bye, everyone" she called again, and they waved at her. Draco, with her bag slung on his shoulder, walked with her to the bus stop. She hugged him tightly. "I really miss you. And I just want to thank you again."

He waved her off. "Come on, Hermione, that's what friends do. Don't make a fuss."

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "Now it's your turn." He rolled his eyes. "He's really sweet, Draco. He's perfect for you" she said, and he blushed.

"Shut up."

"Just don't pussyfoot around it too long. You'll confuse him."

"What"

"Oh come on. Don't play dumb. Slow, constant pressure. Make certain he notices you and doesn't ever forget you're there. But don't just tackle him, I get the feeling he's not open to that" she said.

"You have no idea. Anyway. Thanks. And don't forget to write." She nodded and the bus pulled up. He stuffed her bag under the bus and caught her sleeve. "When I said write, I meant me, not just Ron."

She laughed. "Love you too, Draco" she said, and climbed onto the coach.

……………………..

"You're late. Sit down, we're doing the Beethoven today." Draco hurried forward, shifting through his bag and drawing out the music. Something about this piece always irked him. Not the piece itself, he liked how it was soft and slow, but he always felt cold when he played it and he never liked feeling cold when he played.

He set the music for the _Moonlight Sonata_ out and Snape ran him through his exercises before demanding that he play. So Draco played.

When he finished he shivered, wondering vaguely if he should perhaps visit his room after his piano lesson was through and pick-up an extra sweater, somehow he knew that when he left the piano the coldness would subside. He hated knowing that it was the music that did this to him. The one thing he loved and it froze him.

"Lovely" Snape murmured, a strange reminiscing gleam in his eyes and Draco wanted very much to smile because he loved being told he did the thing he loved well, but he knew that this was empty. This meant nothing. Anyone could play the notes. Anyone could frost-over the piece. That wasn't the point. Draco wanted to _play_. He wanted to play like Harry had played that day when he first met him. No, like he had always heard Harry play. As if there was something else, besides the music. As if the piece wasn't recorded at all but something spontaneous that spilled forth and could not simply be contained.

"Again. You stumble through the eighteenth bar. Right" Snape point to the spot in the music"there. And again on this line here" Snape pointed. "This time don't."

And it was that simple. You tripped on this note, even though Draco knew it was a slip of his fingers that had no auditory repercussion, but nonetheless, it was less than perfect simply because Draco didn't move perfectly. It was all about the music. Of course it was! What else was there?

There was passion. He thought to himself. But Draco had learned to disregard that voice long ago.

…………………

Draco plunked a few notes on the piano.

He had finished his lessons, had endured the boredom of another history class and laughed his way through math. And, after chasing the cold away with a coffee, he was sitting alone in the piano hall. At least, that's what he called it. It looked like a piano graveyard, though each piano was really exquisitely beautiful, and the room itself looked as if it belonged in Louis the XIV's palace, but still, it looked like a very frigid place. Draco had left most of the lights off and was working from the natural light seeping in through the windows and from the lamp above the piano where he had stationed himself.

He looked back at the piece and sighed, plunking out the first three lines and stopped, glaring at his fingers.

"Stop it" a voice said and Draco looked towards it, catching sight of Harry leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. There was a duffel bag at his feet but Draco disregarded this, still feeling a little dazed at having not heard the boy enter.

"Stop what" he asked defensively, and Harry sighed, shutting the door and walking over to the piano where Draco was sitting. There was an impatient look on the dark-haired boy's face that changed immediately to a soft expression of something that looked like understanding and patience. A small smile crept across the boy's face and Draco watched it all, feeling vaguely cold.

"Stop thinking" Harry said calmly, and Draco blinked at him.

"I wasn't thinking, I was playing" Draco clipped defensively once more, and wished that he could stop that.

"Well then, stop it. You're preoccupied with the notes. Stop that." Draco watched Harry with calculating eyes before he took a deep breath.

"How" Harry smiled at him and suddenly lunged forward, covering Draco's eyes with his hands. "Do you hear it" he asked quietly, and Draco frowned straining his ears but wondering just the same if perhaps Harry had gone mad.

"What am I listening for"

"The music. Do you hear it? Do you hear the piece" Draco sat and suddenly, yes, he did hear it. He smiled a little and nodded. "What does it sound like to you" Harry asked, still with that soft voice.

"It ... It sounds..." he bit down on his tongue. This was stupid. He felt like a complete moron. He knew the notes. He could play the piece, what the hell was he sitting here for, playing the bloody song in his head and picturing stupid things for"It sounds brooding." He jerked his head back and blinked his eyes open. Where the hell had that come from? Harry smiled at him softly, as if he had just come to understand something about Draco, and Draco couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable now.

"That's a start" Harry whispered, and smiled a little wider. Draco couldn't help but think that it looked a bit encouraging. He only stared as Harry walked back to the door and picked-up his bag.

"Where are you going" he asked when he finally got his voice to work.

"Art trip" Harry said, and grinned. "I'll see you next week." Harry waved and Draco nodded at him, watching as the door shut quietly behind the dark haired boy. He tried to pretend that he couldn't still feel warm hands over his eyes. He closed them for a moment.

"Brooding" he said softly after he had sat in silence for a while. He opened his eyes and looked back at the music. Carefully he settled his hands over the keys. When he began the piece he noticed that something had changed. The coldness was still there, the music still sounded oddly flat, but there was something in him that was different a sense of release and he wondered where the hell that had come from.

He decided it wasn't that bad.

-

TBC

-

I would just like to thank everyone who reviewed this fic so far. Especially people who wrote longer reviews. You made my day and, to be completely honest, I was blown-away! Please, if you can spare the time, leave a review, because I really appreciate them.

This chapter is **dedicated** to **Rarity88** for the smashingly long review which gave me the incentive to (after I returned from my round-trip to the moon) get down to work and hurry along with this little ficcy of mine. (Who am I kidding, this is NOT going to be a little fic... that's what I love about it.) And also for reading my bio. And for reading my livejournal. And for commenting on my livejournal. And for recommending my fics to family. Heh. Anything I missed? Oh yeah, puffing my ego-up marvelously. Please keep it up!

-

TEASER:

Seamus gets drunk and betrays a friend

Draco learns more about Harry

Harry returns from the art trip to make a painful discovery!

-

1. For those of you who watch Animaniacs this would be the "Slappy the Squirrel" song.

2. And yes, this is exactly what happened to me. I literally just sat-down and played this relatively complex piece without a single slip. I fully belief in all that stuff about music affecting little kids now because, hey, I heard it and I was in the bloody womb!


	4. Perfidia

**Title: **_Life, as Experienced Through Your Fingers_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Four:** Perfidia (1)

-

"Draco! Harry was looking for you" Seamus cried when Draco found his way back to his dorm.

"Was he"

"Yeah, I think he wanted to say good-bye. Did he find you" Seamus asked, and then had to repeat himself when Draco just looked around as if he were in deep thought.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. He found me" Draco said absently, dropping his bag by the door and sinking gratefully into the couch.

Seamus nodded and then grinned. "Friday we're going to get smashed" Seamus declared.

Draco rolled his eyes. "But we did that last weekend" he whinged.

"Well, this weekend we need it."

"We needed it then, too. Or so you said" Draco reminded.

"Yes. Well. It's possible to be in dire straights for two weekends in a row with alcohol being the only cure."

"Of course."

"Fuck off."

"You first."

"Bastard" Seamus whined before throwing his hands in the air, and then an evil glint entered his eyes. "So. Did you kiss him good-bye" If Draco had been drinking something he would have promptly choked on it.

"Did he kiss who" Blaise asked as he sauntered into the common room and dropped onto the couch beside Draco. "Who are you kissing now, Draco"

"Harry" Seamus said and Blaise looked suddenly serious.

"Did you" he asked, and something in the tone made Draco frown.

"No. Not even close. He just came to say good-bye when I was practicing" Draco said.

"Oh for love of..." Seamus was about to whine but Blaise glared at him.

"Finnigan, don't make me have to sick Weasley on you."

Seamus nodded obediently then grinned again. "Friday we're getting smashed" he declared, to which Blaise glanced at Draco and they shared a look.

"Didn't we do that last week" Blaise asked.

"Yes" Seamus answered. "And we're doing this weekend, too."

"Oh" Blaise said, trying to hide his amusement. "Okay. Glad to see we're getting a bit more creative.

………………………

Draco looked up when Blaise slid into the seat beside him at breakfast. "I didn't think you would make it out of bed this morning" he stated, only to be swatted with a serviette.

"Sorry" Blaise muttered as he picked the serviette off of Draco's shoulder. "You didn't make much of an effort to wake me" he sulked and Draco rolled his eyes.

"So, screaming at you, shaking you, ripping the covers off your comatose form, throwing your beeping alarm clock at your head and slamming the door isn't counted as much of an effort? Right. Next time I'll add cold water to the list."

Blaise blanched. "You wouldn't."

"Yes. I would" Draco said and bit into an apple. "Anyway, where is Harry's art trip to"

"Harry and Dean. The art class is heading over to France for a week. They're back on Wednesday" Blaise said as he munched on his cereal.

"None of my classes are going on a bloody trip" Draco sulked causing Blaise to laugh.

"Now now. That's part of the reason why Seamus made his prescription of alcohol. He hates being left behind."

Draco rolled his eyes, he had forgotten about the Irish boy's plans. "Is there any malady that Seamus doesn't cure with alcohol" he asked, and Blaise shrugged.

"Not that I'm aware of. Anyway, will you tell him that I can't make it" Blaise asked with a puppy look on his face.

Draco scowled. "One, why do I have to tell him, and two, why the hell can't you make it" Draco asked and Blaise grinned.

"Well, I don't want to get lectured now, do I? He won't lecture _you_ seeing as _you're_ not the one who's bailing. And in answer to your second question, see that girl over there" Draco followed Blaise's finger and caught sight of a blonde girl grinning and laughing at another table with a bunch of her friends. "That's Pansy. And come Friday, we're going to be an item."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Awfully confident. You haven't even dated her yet."

Blaise simply shrugged"Yes, but we will on Friday, and come on, you don't think she could turn me down, do you" Blaise said, Draco was about to retort but he stopped himself. Too easy, he thought, and only shrugged.

"So, no Dean, no Harry, no Neville, no you. And Ron's family is coming down over the weekend so that means Seamus and I are going to get completely smashed in our own residence. This is pathetic."

Blaise patted his back. "On the up-side..."

"What" Draco asked when Blaise trailed off.

"Nothing. I was going to try to say something to make it all seem less pathetic than it sounds but there isn't anything to say. It is pathetic."

"Thank-you."

"No problem."

……………………

Draco woke-up and sighed. As soon as his eyes opened he was certain that he would be unable to get back to sleep. He was fairly certain that the dream had something to do with the Moonlight Sonata and a little boy brooding and ... his father. Draco sat up and rubbed his eyes. He hated being awake at odd hours with nothing to amuse himself with.

Cursing softly under his breath he swung out of bed and, putting his housecoat on, wandered out to the common room. Unconsciously he headed to make himself some cocoa and by the time he was aware of what he was doing he was sitting on the window ledge looking out towards the small wooded area that was not too far from his res. It looked like a winter wonderland, with snow clinging to the branches of the trees and covering the ground. He sighed and stared out at it for a while. It seemed somehow fitting for him to be woken by his father only to be confronted by a frozen world.

He sighed again and turned his thoughts towards Harry who had once occupied this very position. He wondered if the boy was often woken in the night and made restless by dreams. He smiled and rested his head back against the wall. Thinking about cat stretches and snapped bow hairs and crooked smiles.

…………………

"I'll have you know that I do not appreciate you saying things like that" Draco stated with a haughty air, Snape only raised an eyebrow at him.

"I will say what I like, Mr. Malfoy, so long as it's true."

Draco huffed and slumped. "Fine, then. How should I correct it"

Snape eyed him darkly and then smirked. "Quite simple, really. One takes a small rest." Draco sighed in relief. He was exhausted. Lately his sleep had been sporadic and, due to unwanted memories, he was often unenthusiastic during meals. With classes being dull (he was certain there was some plot among the staff to drive him mad) Draco was at wit's end and could not concentrate. This was not too bad except when he had piano, which he, unfortunately, did.

"That's a relief. I was almost certain you would prescribe more playing."

"Not this time, though more practice often cures many musical maladies."

"So, you admit there is a time to rest"

"Perhaps" Snape said and settled onto a piano bench, eyeing him with dark eyes. Draco found himself intrigued. Despite the frightening resemblance to his father when it came to musical preferences and ideas on "proper" playing techniques, he was, in truth, rather perplexing. One moment he would seem very much the bitter git that Draco was more than willing to accept, but there were moments (rather brief moments, though) when Draco caught a hint that there was perhaps something more complex about the man. Draco's only thought was the man had issues, and he had often left it there.

"Fine then, be elusive. What shall we talk about" he asked, looking closely at the dark sneer that seemed to have slipped onto his professor's face almost unconsciously.

"We will not talk. This is not a lesson in gossip. Nor is this a long break. We'll start back in a few minutes." Draco bit his tongue and closed his eyes thinking that 'brooding' summed-up an awful lot in his life.

…………………..

Friday came and Draco found himself fidgeting throughout the day. This was completely unlike him and he clamped the urge down, though when he was not consciously thinking about it he found himself tapping.

Seamus was highly amused when he started tapping in history and nudged him, dropping a note on his desk. When Draco opened it, leaning back in his chair and holding the paper under his desk it read simply"Told you so." and Draco sneered.

When Professor Binns was not looking he crumpled the note and promptly through it, smacking Seamus in the back of the head with it. Draco found that he felt quite a bit better and was able to refrain from tapping for the rest of the class.

……………………

"It's not funny" Seamus whinged but Draco didn't stop laughing. When he had calmed himself he sighed and took another sip of rum before grinning widely again and chuckling. "Bastard" Seamus added, to which Draco only shrugged.

"Well, it's not as if I... wait, I forgot what I was going to say" he mumbled and stared down through the top of his bottle as if he could find his thought in there.

"Thinking about Harry" Seamus teased, and Draco scowled threateningly at the Irish boy but the glare was ineffective because the alcohol had him seeing double and the glare was focused on the wrong Seamus.

"Aww, nuffing to be 'shamed of" Seamus slurred. Draco wondered if it was a sign of how drunk he was that he could still understand the other boy. "He's a sweet one. Just be careful" Seamus added, and Draco huffed in aggravation and stood-up quickly, wobbling a little as he attempted an indignant pace back-and-forth for the length of the sofa on which he had previously been sprawled.

"I'm sick of everyone telling me to 'be careful' and constantly alluding to something and never _telling_ me! How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do if I don't know what happened! But everyone says they're sworn to fucking secrecy and that really pisses me the fuck off because I need to know"

Seamus shrugged and sat back. "It's because of Tom (2)" he stated, and Draco blinked before sitting down quickly, wondering if the boy would perhaps continue. He wondered why there was a voice in his head telling him to go away, that this needed to be told by Harry, or at least someone who was sober, but instead he leaned forward, taking another swig of rum.

"Tom"

"Yes. He used to room with Harry. That was ... a year ago? No two. Well, doesn't matter. They roomed together. Well, you know how it goes" Seamus finished, and Draco frowned.

"No. Actually I haven't the foggiest" he said, and Seamus looked at him.

"'kay, I'll tell you. But first you must bring to me the rum and I shall drink of it heavily as I recount." Draco handed his bottle over and snuggled into the sofa, wondering if the world would stop spinning any time soon. It didn't. "Well, Tom was a bastard now, wasn't he? We didn't see it at first. Harry kept it hidden."

"They were going out" Draco asked, and Seamus' face slid quickly into a disgusted scowl.

"Give the boy some fecking credit. No way. But they roomed together, and Tom would say stuff. Mean stuff, you know? But Harry never said anyfing, just brushed it off. Tom was for piano, but he really resented Harry because ev'rone knows he's brilliant.

"Well, for a while it was fine, it was just insults traded between them whenever they were in their dorm room. Easily solved, Harry wouldn't go there 'till it was necessary. Then it started to escalate. I mean, Harry's not a bloody wimp so he started to come right back at Tom." Draco smirked imagining some of the exchanges. In his mind, Harry won every time.

"I dunno when. But it changed. Tom went a bit crazy. I mean, he was always a bit strange but he was very good at playing the sweet and loveable guy. He had pretty much ev'rone fooled, even me. But not Ron, and not Harry. But Tom got weirder. He had a group he always hung with, you know, a bunch of cronies and the such."

"Who were his friends" Draco asked, curious.

"Aw, you know. Crabbe and Goyle but mainly Peter."

"McLain"

"You know him" Draco huffed but nodded. "Bastard, that one" Seamus said and drank some more. "Well, I didn't learn any of this until after Tom left."

"S'kay. It's still more'n me" Draco said.

"Right, well. I dunno when but they did stuff. You know, sorta tormentin' Harry. Little things to get under his skin. Stuff in his bed, weird messages. I don't know the specifics except for one thing. They stole Harry's violin. One thing about Harry, his instruments and his art supplies are his life. Don't mess with them. Well, they did. I forget what they did. Smashed it for one, and something else. Can't remember. Rather sick, if you ask me. There was a message but I can't remember ... some threat ... Harry was furious."

"Did the teachers know" Draco asked; his anger was giving him an immense headache.

"Well, Harry told them but there wasn't much they could do. There was no real proof. I mean, up to that point it had just been yelling matches, and all the threats were anonymous. The teachers tried, they promised to keep an eye out, but teachers tend to be daft, don't they"

"What happened" Draco had a bad feeling.

"The fights escalated. I recall a couple where Harry ended-up a little bruised, but that wasn't the worst of it." Draco's fists were clenched and he was unconsciously gritting his teeth. "Tom set something up. I don't recall. Something. Harry went back to his room to change during lunch. Tom wen' afferr him. He cornered Harry in their room and had the door locked. Harry tried to fight him but, Tom was a lot taller and he was a lot more muscley."

"Did he do it" Draco asked, finding it difficult to breathe. "Did he rape him"

"Well, that was his intention. Ron and Blaise, who were th'only ones who had figured out what was happening, noticed that Harry wasn' at the table, and that Tom wasn' either. They went running up to the dorm, but they couldn't get the door open to Harry's room. They could hear him screaming his head off and struggling. It would have happened, but Harry's pretty stubborn. Tom had him on the bed but Harry did something. Can't remember what. But he knocked Tom unconscious and got the door open and th'rest just sorta played out. I mean, Tom got expelled and charged wiff attempted rape, but Harry's been really jumpy since then. That's why I was surprised to see how he is, s'pecially with you. I mean, with the rest f'us it's different, 'cause he knows us, but he doesn't really like getting close to others."

Draco felt oddly warm with this thought and he couldn't contain a grin. "So that's why he has a room to himself"

"Yup" Seamus said, a bit sleepily, and he yawned and then was automatically passed-out.

…………………

When Draco opened his eyes he immediately closed them again. His mouth tasted as if a thousand demons in grungy socks had run-through it and the only thought in his head was "Water." He smiled when a glass of water was plunked down on the table in front of him.

"You didn't have to drink all the alcohol, you know. You could have saved it for the inevitable 'next time'." Came a voice he knew he should recognize. And, after a moment, he did.

"Blaise."

"Yes. But before you do anything else, take these. Then I suggest you get yourself over to the bathroom as quickly as possible. There will be repercussions after all of that rum. Believe me." Draco wanted to nod, he really did, but something told him that maybe that wasn't the smartest of ideas and he was inclined to agree with that voice. Instead he snatched the offered Aspirins and drank the water. Becoming immediately aware of the repercussions, he cursed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door and leaning over the toilet.

He was never going to drink again in his life.

……………….

When he had finished with his shower and was at least on speaking terms with the world, Blaise had dragged him down to a late lunch.

It didn't take long before Draco realized that Seamus kept looking at him with worry. Draco wondered why. He shrugged and pushed his plate away. "One more bite and I might be forced to resume my post" he mumbled, and Blaise cackled, earning him an evil glare that could have killed him, if glares were able to do that sort of thing. Blaise was happy that they weren't.

"Fine. Lets head back, then. Coming, Seamus" Seamus nodded slightly and Blaise frowned, watching the boy walk quietly before them. Seamus was not like that, even with a hangover Seamus flirted and insinuated and taunted. There was something wrong and Blaise wondered what had happened to the Irish boy. "Draco" he asked when they were out of the meal hall and a good few paces back from his friend. "Did something happen to Seamus"

"Dunno. Not that I'm aware of" he said honestly and wracked his brain as they headed back to the room. As he was stepping into the common room the reason became painfully clear. "Oh Lord" Draco murmured and Blaise immediately frowned at him. "We were both really drunk last night" Draco said, trying to ease his friend into understanding.

Blaise smirked. "Did he seduce you? Is that what you're afraid of"

"No. We were talking and ... the conversation it just..." Seamus came back into the common room at that point, a book in his hand and looked between Blaise and Draco with a hesitant expression that was split between fear and guilt.

Blaise suddenly went white. "Did he tell you" he asked, very quietly.

"... Yes" Draco admitted, and Seamus tensed as if he were about to run.

"The whole story" Blaise asked, still in a calm and quiet tone that was very unnerving.

"As much as he remembered and could speak coherently." Draco kept his head down, slowly comprehension of what he knew and how Harry would react was dawning. Now that he was sober, he felt horrible. This was a full-out betrayal of Harry and listening and prompting made him just as guilty as Seamus was for telling. He needed to clear this up if he wanted to have any hope with the dark- haired boy.

"Shit, Finnigan. I thought you understood what a promise was. I thought you knew to value your friends and protect them." Blaise was snarling the words and Draco couldn't help feeling even more crappy than his hangover had left him.

Seamus snarled back, equally angry. "Fuck you, Blaise. Draco needed to know. He needed to hear it and nobody was telling him. Everyone keeps saying they want to see Harry happy but in order to do that nobody is willing to do what it takes."

"What it takes" Blaise snapped. "This is Harry's past and therefore it's his right to tell it! Or even if you were going to do it, you might have done it sober and given it the respect it deserved! Or had Ron and I there because we're as close to the truth as you can get without going directly to Harry! How could you" Blaise sighed and shook his head. "No. I don't even want to know. You know what you have to do, Finnigan."

"No, Blaise" Seamus' voice was pleading, and the expression on the boy's face startled Draco.

"He needs to know what's happened. When he gets back you're telling him. Just you, and then he can figure-out how what to do with you. You'll be lucky if he stays your friend. I'm doing you a favor; Harry's a lot nicer than I am. Right now, I'm flippin' angry and I think it would be better if you went away for a while." Seamus nodded, he was very red and he was shaking. The Irishman walked hurriedly passed him and Blaise and slipped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

………………..

The weekend seemed to pass-by faster than anything, and yet drag-on. It was a duality that Draco was neither appreciative of, nor comfortable with. Harry was coming back on Wednesday and if Draco had been hoping his classes would distract him, he was wrong. The tapping continued, but this time he had a completely different reason to do it.

And if Draco thought he was doing poorly, he could only imagine how Seamus was reacting. Besides one conversation on Sunday where the Irishman expressed his fear of losing Harry as a friend, a feeling that was warring with his thought that he deserved whatever punishment might come his way, Draco had not seen Seamus anywhere, not even meal hall. He caught brief glimpses of the now elusive boy in some of the classes that they shared, but Seamus had taken to sitting by the doors, as far back as possible.

An odd silence had fallen over their dorm as well. Even Neville had miraculously refrained from knocking over furniture. Crabbe and Goyle had taken-over the common area because no one else had to heart to socialize anymore, each either trying to retain their fury or fear, sometimes both. Like in the case of Ron who was fiercely protective of his friend and hated the idea of having Harry return to something like this after a vacation. Neville had pointed out that things always did tend to turn to shite once one returned from holiday, but he had received several rather intimidating glares and decided that silence was in fact best, and promptly fled the room, making a point of avoiding the small coffee table.

So when the sun rose bright and orange on Wednesday morning, there was a hidden sense of relief that was blocked by a sense of panic. Classes for each of the boys were slow, grim torture that seemed even crueler than the Iron Maiden. Draco took a moment to muse as to whether it was worse than having salt poured on to your foot and having a goat lick it off until the flesh peeled away and the goat was still licking at your bone. He'd heard that they had used that in Italy on witches for a while. He was still toying with the thought on his way back to his dorm when he found that the door could only open part way. He squeezed in through the opening and was confronted with what he had feared.

The door had been partially blocked by a bag, one that Draco remembered seeing in dim light, hanging off the shoulder of the boy who was now looking quite pale and staring at Seamus, who still had that guilty look that Draco had become accustomed to. Time slowed, slower than it had been moving before, which Draco had thought was impossible, or at least, had hoped. Harry turned and fixed Draco with a blank look that was somehow worse than any angry look could have ever been.

Draco wished that he could find his voice and break the silence which was quite deafening and was well on its way to giving him a migraine. Instead he blinked, which was, he thought, quite eloquent for a moment of such high duress. Seamus was moving his mouth as if he were intending to speak but had not quite settled on an opening line, but Harry chose that moment to turn back to Draco and, in a voice that was eerie with its calm said"So you know."

"Yes" Draco sighed.

He really didn't know. There was only so much that one could ever understand was a drunken second-hand rendition of a story, but it was true. Draco knew, at least a little.

He wished that he could say something that would make it go away, that awkward feeling that had been growing in him, that guilty, depressed look on Seamus' face, that hollow, betrayed glint in Harry's eyes. Everything. But he couldn't, and before he could even try, Harry nodded and, picking up his bag, walked to his room and closed the door.

………………..

By the following day, Draco had turned his quiet guilt into indignant fury. He had, after all, had every right to hear what had happened, Harry was not only his roommate, but also his friend, (Draco hoped to add boy-friend as well, but that remained to be seen).

Admittedly, Harry also had every right to be upset, both with Seamus (who he had chosen to ignore) and Draco himself (though Harry seemed to be avoiding him with something akin to guilt in his countenance).

Weren't they old enough to sit-down and talk about it all rationally? Harry had been absolutely silent since his return. He had taken-off with his violin case (which Draco was fairly certain contained Little Mischief), and had refused to eat dinner, and, so far as Draco knew, breakfast as well. At this rate, nothing would ever be resolved. And damn it all, did Draco ever want it to be resolved, because then he could move-on to the next step, which was much more rewarding, at least in Draco's mind.

By Friday, Draco could barely stop the tapping. He had also picked-up the habit of twirling his pencil between his fingers and was completely unable to concentrate on any of his lessons. He was happy that it was Friday, and he at least had the weekend to recuperate.

By Sunday he had given-up on the idea of completing his homework in a satisfactory manner and had instead made a last effort to just complete it in any way possible.

It was then that Blaise threw open the door to their bedroom and stomped over to Draco's bed where he was perched amidst a great sea of books and papers and notebooks and writing implements. Blaise towered over him for a few moments before sitting down on Draco's map of the world that he had been using to complete his history work.

"Are you going to do something about this" Blaise asked, and for a moment Draco just stared at him. He was reasonably satisfied that he was not gaping; Malfoy's did not gape, no matter how gape-worthy the situation was.

"What" he managed, with a hint of indignation that he was quite proud of.

"About Harry, Draco. Are you going to just sit here and fuck around or are you going to talk to him" Draco was shocked to find that his mouth had dropped open a bit, and he quickly rectified this, deciding to sniff instead and he glared at Blaise.

"What about Harry" Blaise rolled his eyes and fixed him with a 'You're kidding, right?' look. "I'm serious. In case you haven't noticed, he's angry."

"No. He's worried."

"What"

"Draco, one day I will educate you on all the strange quirks of each of our wondrous roommates, but right now there is a boy who is avoiding everyone and really is quite stressed and needs help. I'm here to ask you whether you are going to do anything, or if the task lies to me."

Draco could only blink. "I don't follow" he muttered and Blaise rolled his eyes and huffed.

"I really didn't think I would have to spell it out to you..." He sat for a moment and then huffed again and took on the patient countenance of a teacher educating a very slow pupil. "Look, Harry is worried sick that you hate him right now, something which your moping about and avoiding him has only proven, at least to him."

"What? _He's_ been avoiding _me_"

"So, he's been hiding in his room with the door locked"

Draco shifted guiltily. "Well, he hasn't been going to meals..."

"Yes, on Wednesday night, and Thursday morning. But after that? How would you know" Again Draco shifted. He had stopped going to meals when it seemed clear that Harry wasn't. "He was shocked, as anyone would be, and didn't know how to react. At lunch on Thursday he arrived, a bit late admittedly, but still, he was there. He apologized and all was well, except when he realized that you weren't there, and then you could tell his mind set about creating a probable chain of events that led to your not being there ... He really is quite insecure."

"He's a fucking prodigy"

"Draco, Harry doesn't look at that way. There are things that he enjoys very much, and those things he does. That he does them well doesn't matter because he would do it anyway. But that's not the point. The point is he's afraid that you're disgusted with him because of what happened with Tom and you no longer want anything to do with him."

Here, Blaise paused to let this news sink-in, and Draco twiddled with a pencil and sighed and bit his lip, because it seemed impossible that both he and Harry could be thinking the same things about each other, and both of them being wrong about the other. "Is it true"

"Of _course_ not" Draco cried, the thought was completely ludicrous.

"Then, as a plea from Ron and I"

"Ron"

"Yes, and I. Will you talk to him and set him right or should we let him down lightly"

"No! I'll talk to him. It's just ... he's not mad"

"No. He's not. True, he is ignoring Seamus, but I think a bit of his anger in that situation comes from the fact that Seamus is the one who told the story to you and thereby drove you off. Though, a majority of it is because of the betrayal. But he's not mad at you."

"But I'm the one who prompted Seamus."

"Look, your little guilt trip is quite charming and sweet but you're missing the point. People are inquisitive; they can't help it. You had a right to ask. If you'll recall, you asked me before. The fact that you asked was not wrong, you were concerned and wanted to help, but Seamus had promised Harry, and each one of us as well, that he would never share what happened unless he was told that he could. Seamus is the one who broke the promise. He should have said that it was Harry's place to tell you, or at the very least said that he couldn't but he'd pester us until we said it was okay." Draco huffed; the logic seemed both accurate and flawed. "Don't worry about Seamus, though. Harry doesn't hold grudges against his friends. Which is another reason why I'm here. He won't resolve anything with Seamus without resolving this shit with you, first."

Blaise patted him on the shoulder and then glared at him. "If you hurt him, I'll get you back." Draco nodded wondering why he was relieved to hear this.

……………………

By Monday, Draco's indignant fury was not only completely gone, but was replaced by a strange sense of concern for the dark-haired boy who was drifting through the halls and refusing to meet his eye. Draco realized the cause for that strange guilty look Harry had, and he, in turn, felt guilty.

In advanced strings Draco managed to catch Harry's eye and, when that seemed to go okay, slipped a note to him with a request to wait after the lesson.

The lesson passed very slowly, and at one point the teacher had asked if they indeed needed a metronome when Draco was doing such a fine job, and when the bell rang, Draco was certain he had never moved faster in his life. He packed his music away quickly, walked over, grabbed Harry's elbow and proceeded to tug the boy out of class. That Harry didn't protest or tense he would realize later, and be up for half the night wondering why, but at the moment his destination was set and he intended to get there quickly.

When they arrived at the small classroom, one of the few that were unoccupied with loitering professors, and gossiping students, Draco spun Harry around and looked at him seriously. He was looking to make sure that Blaise was right, and he found more than enough proof.

Harry didn't say anything, only looked at him with a hesitant look, and chewed on his bottom lip. This Draco found incredibly distracting but he reminded himself of the problem at hand and instead hoped to resolve the issue as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry." Since he had never in his entire life apologized to anyone for anything, it seemed incredibly strange that it should now come so easily to him but looking at Harry, there was no doubt where the inspiration had come from. Now, Harry blinked in confusion and looked at him quite seriously.

"For what" he asked, after a moment.

"For getting Seamus to tell me. It wasn't right. I was just ... uhm..." He trailed off, not quite ready to say that he was worried, and instead stared at the floor that had suddenly become rather interesting. When he glanced up there was a gleam in Harry's eye that he hadn't seen there before.

"I'm not angry" was the reply, and Draco smiled a little, but Harry still looked nervous, and so Draco moved to the next step.

"If you ever want to talk about it..."

"But you've heard everything already."

"Not really, Seamus was more than a little drunk and ... Look, I don't mean to pry, I think I've done enough of that, but ... aren't you angry" To this, Harry blinked, it was clear that this was the last thing he was expecting.

"Er ... At who"

"Tom"

"Er ... I was, for a long while I really was and sometimes ... ... Are you angry with me" It came out of nowhere and Draco was startled, then he smiled and shook his head.

"How could you think I would be? You didn't do anything wrong."

"Well ... it was just that Tom said that ... and Peter..." He took a deep breath and looked away and Draco couldn't stand the pained look on his face and took the steps that lay between them and gently turned Harry's head back to face him. Harry still avoided his eyes and muttered something.

"What" Draco asked, a little breathless.

"When enough people say something enough times ... it seems true, sometimes..." Harry whispered.

"...What did they say to you"

Harry huffed quietly as if he could never explain all the things they said, but then he whispered"They called me a slut."

Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch something. "Harry, listen to me. You could never be that." He wanted to add that a virgin could rarely be construed as a slut, but chose to bite his tongue, he wasn't sure if Harry would appreciate the bits of knowledge that he had picked-up from their roommates in his quest to get to know the dark-haired boy better. "You could never be a slut."

"I don't know ... it seems so stupid but ... I started to think..." Draco hugged the boy and Harry did tense, and Draco wondered why. Harry seemed to realize this and took a step back. "Sorry" he muttered, and took a deep breath. "Sometimes I remember..." Draco understood and sighed before an idea came to him.

"Come on" he said, tugging on Harry's hand that he had snatched. "Let's go."

"Where" Harry asked as he followed Draco out.

"Trust me." Harry grinned and followed Draco through the halls.

-

TBC

This is just a personal note. On the 20th of December at 8:30 a.m. I became an aunt. I have a little niece by the name of Shaye and I just wanted to mention it because I'm really excited.

Thank-you so much for all of the reviews and encouragement!

**Note:** I realize that there is a lot of consumption of alcohol during these passed few chapters. I thought I would just address this in case anyone was wondering or getting irritated with it. First, keep in mind the time that has passed within each section. Admittedly, this chapter takes place a week apart from the other, but the rest had a pretty good time-span between it, so it's not as if our boys a little alcoholics (though you never know with Seamus) From here on there is a shift in attention, in case you didn't notice by the end, and things will change. So, the large alcoholic gatherings are set to be decreasing!

This chapter is **dedicated** to **TsukiBlue** because of the constant reviews and for deeming me worthy to be on a fav-author's list. She was one of the first people who put me on the list! You rock!

-

TEASER:

Draco and Harry flee the coup (ie. Escape from school)

Trouble in Paradise

Draco has an inspired epiphany

-

1. Based on the Glenn Miller song that was on constant repeat during the making of this chapter, but also because of the wondrously pertinent definition, according to the ever-popular Oxford English. **Perfidy**: Deceitful breach of faith or betrayal of trust. This refers both to Seamus and Tom.

2. Yes, I know some people may be rolling their eyes, but Tom Marvolo Riddle, aka. The Evil Dark Lord Voldemort, will always hate Harry Potter. I'm fairly certain it's been written in stone somewhere. Why mess with a good thing?


	5. Sensations of Warmth

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Five: Sensations of Warmth

* * *

Draco was relieved that Harry still had his keys on him from last weekend. Somehow having to detour up to the art floor would have ruined the spontaneity of it all, and Draco found that right now, the sense of throwing everything to the wind was exactly what was needed.

He had snatched the keys from Harry as they exited the school and Draco had dragged the willing boy to the parking lot where Harry had made another half-hearted attempt to find-out their destination. Draco had, of course, withheld all information but managed to get Harry into the car without difficulty and they had been cruising down the quiet country road in silence for about twenty minutes when they reached their destination.

Draco pulled the truck to the curb and turned the engine off, smiling a little at Harry before gesturing with his head that they were there. It was a small forest that Draco had found on one of his walks at the beginning of November and, with the snow still clinging to the branches, it looked like a winter wonderland. Harry shut his door and breathed deeply, a soft smile settling on his face before the expression disappeared and he glanced nervously at Draco. "Come on," Draco murmured, conscious of the need for quiet. Harry didn't say anything, but started walking.

They were well ensconced in the wood when Harry turned and looked at him with a resigned expression. Draco caught it out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. They walked a bit further when Harry looked sideways at him again and sighed. "I suppose you want to hear about it?" Harry asked, and it was Draco's turn to look sideways.

"Do you want to tell me?" Draco countered, and there was a pause where they just walked, listening to the snow crunching under their feet before Harry whispered.

"I just want to forget it."

Draco looked over at him again and sighed. "It's impossible to forget completely, but sometimes, if you talk about it, it heals the memory."

"Yes, into another scar." This was said bitterly, and Draco was startled by it. Harry stopped walking and looked up at the canopy of skeletal trees bearing the heavy weight of snow. Draco just watched him, not wanting to pester him or push him too far. Whatever Harry had to say, Draco was willing to hear. "It was last year. It lasted almost the entire year." Draco watched as Harry fidgeted a bit before turning and looking at him. "Tom had roomed with us before. You probably realized the entire section has been together pretty much since the beginning. The Headmaster is big on friendships and things forming within residence so, so long as there are no complaints, he doesn't shift people around."

Harry sighed and walked over to the tree, leaning up against the bark and running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't anything, at first. Tom was always a prat when it came to music and he'd always be teasing or tossing little barbs at me. That's what it was, just banter. But then, last year it became a lot more. I don't know why, the attacks became personal. Suddenly it wasn't just about people always saying I was good. He brought my parents into it, and the banter became full-out attacks on me and everything that meant anything to me. Not physical. Not at first."

"What did he say?" Draco asked, his voice was a bit choked but he was satisfied to note that it wasn't too obvious.

"It progressed. I mean, at first it was mainly that I was a spoiled little orphan. He'd make cracks about my parents, saying they were worthless. He would bring my brother into it. That always got to me. We'd end up in detentions together and that only made it worse. He'd pass notes and things so that, even when I was in class he could still get to me. Of course, I would never open the notes when they were obviously from him, so he started having the office deliver stuff to me under the pretense that it was from my uncle. Once it happened enough I went to McGonagall and showed her the messages, but since there was no proof tying him to the notes she really couldn't help, but I sorted out with Sirius a way to avoid Riddle as much as possible." He snorted and tilted his head back, closing his eyes tightly as if he were snagged in a memory. "Of course, I would still have to travel to class. And we still shared a room.

"I have a lot more spares, because of my curriculum, and he would skip classes with the specific purpose of finding me wherever I was in the school, and harassing me. When he was with his group, it would be verbal attacks, those were considerably easier, but not at all pleasant. Later it escalated to fights where they would see how many hits I could take before I couldn't fight back, or fell and couldn't get up on my own anymore. When he was alone, or with Peter, they were threats. He pinned me against a wall once, sometime in March, and by this point I was so upset with everything that he would say to me, and I actually believed some of it and it didn't matter what Ron told me because Ron was my friend and he was supposed to say things like that. So when he pinned me up against the wall, he reminded me that I was a slut because I needed contact. You know, touch just ... I don't know how to explain it but ..."

"You're a tactile person, I understand," Draco said and Harry smiled a little before he looked away.

"Yeah. I wasn't like that with him. Not ever. But he said that he was going to make it official. He was going to rape me right there, with Peter watching, but by that point I had taken to working in the Pit, just so that there was someone to keep track of me because I hated being alone by then, and Sirius, since I didn't show up, was looking for me. They ran away before they could be caught, but when I explained it to him he told the Headmaster, but there wasn't much to be done. I was going to be moved to a new room. I was set to move in the next day, but of course, Riddle was always a step ahead."

"What happened?"

"That night at the beginning of supper he got mashed potatoes on my shirt. I ran back to the res to change and he followed. He locked the door to the room and attacked me. I tried to fight back but he was really built and I really couldn't do much. I kept yelling at him to stop and pounding him with my fists and clawing at him but he got me onto the bed and ... and he got most of my clothes off and was ... doing things ... He sat back to take off my boxers and I got my leg free and I kicked him as hard as I could. He flew back and hit the wall and he was out. Blaise and Ron were there by that point, they didn't have a key but they had been pounding on the door and when I got the lock free they had called for the professors and the Headmaster and they came and Riddle was sent to the hospital. And that," Harry added, with a quirked eyebrow, turning to look at Draco directly, "Is why we all know how to pick locks."

Draco recalled the day Neville had been moping about his upcoming test and Harry had managed to get his way in to the room to comfort him. "What happened to Riddle?"

"I dunno. Once he was expelled, I was pretty certain that was the end of it, but it wasn't. He stalked me for a bit. He was able to do it because McLain was still at school so the little messages always got to me somehow. I saw him once more, but I was with Ron and he couldn't do anything. By that point the charges I made went through and he was sentenced. He was supposed to serve time somewhere. I don't really remember ... I don't really care," Harry said and Draco nodded. They stayed silent for a while and then Draco asked the question he had been wondering about since the day he had heard Harry and Ron arguing over a handshake three months ago.

"What about the violin? What else did McLain do?"

Harry looked at him darkly and sighed. "For being completely sloshed, Seamus managed to cover the key points," he muttered, and then, after another moment, "Riddle started it. Messages, little threats he would leave for me to find. One of them was my violin. He had smashed it and left the pieces in the case. The bow was snapped as well, and he'd put paint on it so it looked like blood. A stupid bloody rose on top of the whole mess, and a little reminder of what I was written on sheet music. The piece I'd been composing. McLain was Riddle's closest friend and he essentially felt the same way towards me. At least, he acted the same. He still tries to cause trouble but after Riddle, he can't do much on his own."

"I'm sorry I ever shook that bastard's hand," Draco muttered and Harry looked at him with surprise, and then he smiled. Draco was stunned by the sincerity and happiness that the smile radiated. He wondered how Harry could possibly be happy but brushed it aside. This, after all, was Harry. "Come on," Draco said, extending his hand. "I know the perfect cure to wash away the rest of these memories."

Harry rolled his eyes, but accepted the hand tentatively. "It better not be something Seamus would recommend," he mumbled with a grin.

* * *

"Where were you?" Blaise asked without looking up from the book he was reading.

"I was posting a letter," Ron said, sounding a bit defensive.

"The lovely Hermione?" Ron flushed and Blaise had his answer. "How doth the lady fair?" Blaise said in a pompous voice, lowering the book and smirking at Ron.

"Fine."

Blaise chuckled. "Well, say hello to her for me." Ron nodded and took a seat on one of the armchairs. They sat in silence for a bit and then Blaise lowered his book again. "Christmas break is coming up. I'm looking for an easy escape from my home-life. Care to offer me an escape route?" Ron turned red and Blaise found this reaction rather interesting.

"Sorry, my mum has gone especially sentimental this year. She's called-back all my brothers to celebrate. I don't think she'd look too well on my bringing a friend. It would distract me from all the family re-bonding we're expected to be doing."

Blaise laughed then sighed. "Nothing for it, then. I'll just have to brave the depths of hell."

"You're being a little over-dramatic."

"You've never met my parents."

"True."

* * *

Draco pulled in to the small parking lot and quirked an eyebrow at the quiet boy who sat next to him. The drive had been full of comfortable conversation. Draco realized that he wanted now, more than ever, to let Harry know how he felt but he wondered if it would be too much all at once. He sighed quietly to himself and glanced over at Harry, pleased to see a small smile creeping on to his face as he looked at the familiar building. "On a school night?" Harry asked with a hint of teasing that made Draco even more relieved.

"Yes, Harry. A wise man once told me that there was very little that couldn't be cured with a night out and some dancing."

"I believe that 'Wise Man' said alcohol and a very tall glass."

"True, well. I don't think Seamus can be trusted too thoroughly," Draco said flippantly, and Harry grinned. They were at the same club that they had visited with Hermione. They got out of the car, trudged through the snow and breathed a shared sigh of relief when the warmth of the club washed over them.

Since it was early there were not many people there, but there were enough to make the atmosphere comfortable and Draco found a booth and they slipped in to it. They sat quietly, just listening to the music and sipping their drinks, Harry with a Coke and Draco with an Iced Tea that had already been refilled once. He was trying to figure-out what he should be doing, what the best approach was, but it all seemed too complicated and his head had started spinning.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, seeing the confused expression on Draco's face.

"I don't know, actually. My head is spinning." Harry looked at him curiously, then nodded, as if he knew exactly how that felt. Draco suddenly remembered something that Harry had said earlier and he felt a little more dizzy. He wondered if perhaps he was being a bit crazy, but brushed it off. A bit of crazy was essential in everyone's life. "Do you want to dance?" he asked, and Harry sat back in surprise before his eyes darted out to the dance floor where he scanned the people.

"Er." Draco smiled at the hesitant look. It was the most hopeful thing he had seen in a long while. He extended his hand over the table top, grinning inwardly when Glenn Miller's Moonlight Serenade began to play, the perfect song, he couldn't have dreamed of one better.

"Come on," he said, and Harry tentatively accepted the hand.

Moving out onto the dance floor, Draco wasn't at all concerned with the people around him. They weren't bothering them, and for that he was grateful, it made them easier to ignore. He let Harry stand a bit apart from him, though he desperately wanted to pull him closer. He felt Harry relax a little and smiled to himself. "You're nervous about being near people because of what he said, aren't you?" he whispered, and Harry tensed slightly before sighing and relaxing again before looking up at him.

"Yes, that and the memories."

"Why not me, then?" Draco asked, and Harry frowned, he blushed lightly and Draco discovered that when Harry blushed the bridge of his nose coloured slightly as well. He found it quite endearing.

"I never felt nervous around you ... I don't know why," Harry whispered thickly, as if his throat were constricted. Draco couldn't help pulling Harry right up against him and grinning.

"I'm glad."

* * *

Draco rushed into the common room and tossed his bag on the sofa. He was still tired from last night, he and Harry had not gotten back until late, but it was a contented sort of exhaustion that was oddly pleasing. He had actually been able to concentrate in class and the tapping had long been forgotten and replaced with a distracted look that would flit across his face, or sometimes settle for a few moments.

It was his break and he was eager to complete the history paper that kept being put-off amidst the little drama that was his life. He plunked-down onto the couch and pulled out his notes and a pen and was just about to start some serious cramming when the door opened again. It was Blaise. "You have class."

"I skipped it," Blaise said with a shrug.

"Slacker," Draco muttered and Blaise laughed and sat down on one of the armchairs.

"I'm not the one frantically trying to complete a paper for a class. I'm the one who is so on-top of things that I can ignore class."

"Right," Draco said, and tried to concentrate, when Blaise kept shifting around and smirking at him Draco decided that he wasn't going to make any progress until he humored Blaise. "How was your date?"

"Fabulous. We're going out again. She said I have very lovely eyes."

"Charming," Draco muttered sarcastically. Blaise was still smirking at him and he wondered what his problem was.

"How was yours?"

"My what?"

"Your date. Last-night. With Harry. Was it that memorable?"

Draco cursed his fair complexion as a blush was creeping on to his cheeks. "It wasn't a date. I spoke with him, which, I will remind you, you asked me to do."

And?" Blaise prompted.

"And it went fine."

Blaise looked at him closely and Draco stopped himself from shifting in discomfort. "You should tell him, Draco."

Draco sighed. "I know, but it seemed a bit much to say, "Well, I'm happy you didn't get molested and that bastard was put-away where he deserves to be but I'm sorry you had to go through all of that shit, and I'm sorry to hear about your violin but listen, I like you and wonder if you'd want to go out with me?" We had a nice night. That's enough, for now."

Blaise shrugged. "I'm just saying ..."

"I know. But really, it's fine."

"Fine. Where are you going for Christmas?"

"Nowhere."

"What?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm staying here. My father told me when I started here that he has a business trip going on and my mother was busy with something, so I'm staying here over the holidays."

Blaise grinned. "You better tell him before the holidays so you have three entire weeks to kiss him under the mistletoe."

"You're sick, you know that? You should seek some help."

* * *

Draco had set aside an hour each day, in between his last class, and dinner to play the piano. At the very least, it was a time to himself where he could think. At the moment, he was glaring at his music, the same Moonlight Sonata that he had played when Harry had left for his trip. He unconsciously played a few notes and sighed before a throat cleared from behind him and he startled, turning and looking behind him only to be greeted by Harry himself who had a thoughtful smile on his face. "You're doing it again," he scolded softly and Draco sighed.

"I don't know what else to do." Harry looked at him for a few moments before walking slowly over to the piano where Draco was seated. Draco was half-hoping that the boy would drop-down onto the bench beside him. Since their night-out, he and Harry had been a bit uncertain around each other. Draco knew it was up to him to make the next move, but since he had no idea what to do and when a good time to do it would be, he sometimes hoped that Harry would make a move and relieve the pressure.

Harry pulled up the rolling chair that Professor Snape used in lessons, and sighed. "Play a few lines," Harry said, his voice was quiet and Draco was thankful that he understood the need to preserve the surreal quality of the room. Draco liked to pretend that he was in another world, because he knew he would be safe there.

With a suspicious glance at Harry, Draco played a few bars and felt the familiar chill, something which turned into a slow burn when Harry picked-up his right hand and held it in both of his, carefully massaging it. "Where's your head when you're playing?"

"Where it should be. Always a few bars ahead of what I'm playing," Draco replied, remembering a piano lesson from long ago.

"It's on the music," Harry said, as if he were pointing out the problem. Draco knew that this was the problem, but he didn't know what to do about that. Right then, he was too preoccupied with his right hand to care about asking how to play properly, and heaved a contented sigh. "You told me before that this piece was brooding." Draco looked back at the music. Yes, it could indeed be that, but somehow he wasn't satisfied with this. Draco didn't voice his dissatisfaction, instead he shrugged. "Then play it and make me believe that it's true." He dropped Draco's hand and Draco was about to complain when he realized he was supposed to be playing.

His hand was still tingling but he began the piece anyway. He found that he wasn't thinking about the notes, he was too preoccupied trying to force some ounce of feeling into the keys he was playing. He wondered if it indeed sounded brooding. He stopped when he noticed that Harry was looking at him thoughtfully. "What?" he asked.

"That's not it, is it? Maybe it was, once, but it's not anymore ..." This was murmured almost to himself and Draco sighed, wondering where Harry was going with this. Wondering why his right hand still felt warm.

"You play it. I'll understand better if you show me."

Harry shook his head. "I won't let you play on borrowed emotions. Close your eyes, your going to play it again. This time I don't want you to tell me what you think about or what you feel, I'll tell you. All I want you to concentrate on is the sound you hear, nothing else, and anything that comes into your head, just let it be. Nothing can touch you in here." The shiver that ran through him was electric. He was, in this time and place, completely untouchable.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and began to play.

He was surprised when memories flashed through his head. When he was a child, two or three, sitting at the dining room table and being scolded for not sitting straight, being locked in his room for half the day because he had gotten grass-stains on his clothes when he was playing. Sitting at the piano, when he was ten, and playing with his eyes closed, smiling, worshiping the keys, and getting smacked because he had been making-up his own music.

When he was just a small child, walking into the large room and watching his father play the grand piano and feeling so incredibly dwarfed and insignificant.

He had been playing this song, hadn't he? This very song, and when he had finished, he had sneered at him and told him never to come in to that room again.

And he had locked the door. Locked that beautiful piano away. But that didn't stop Draco, he would sit on his bed at night and close his eyes, hear the piece in his head, and imagine that he was sitting at that piano. Playing this piece. This very same piece.

When he opened his eyes he turned slowly to see Harry smiling softly. There was a bright look in his jade eyes as if he was completely struck by something. "What did you feel?" Draco asked, wondering what was behind that soft sheen that may or may not be unshed tears.

"Trapped, like being held back when escape was so close it could be tasted. Lonely, but not isolated. Longing. Longing more than anything else." Draco looked away and turned his attention to his fingers. He was just realizing that for the first time in a long, long time, he had really played. "What did you feel?" Harry asked, voice dropping close to a whisper.

"Warm," Draco replied, and he felt like smiling.

* * *

The letter in itself was small and unthreatening, but Draco shivered when he picked it up nonetheless, and that was because he knew the handwriting, and he could guess what it meant. He didn't want to open it, he wanted to stay at the school over the holidays with Harry. He wanted to laugh and pretend he was normal and be warm when he played.

He opened the letter and read it through slowly before taking a deep breath and tossing it in to the trash.

He ran-out of the room, anxious to find Harry.

It being early on a Saturday morning, the halls were completely empty, but Draco knew Harry was out there somewhere since he had not been in his room or the common room. He made it to the piano room when he heard it, the opening strands of the Allegro movement of Vivaldi's Concerto 6 in A minor.

He grinned, he had found Harry.

He made his way quickly over to the concert hall and opened the doors, immediately warmth flooded him and he shivered. The music was jarring in its lightness, the notes seemed to have taken on a physical form, hanging in the air like heady perfume. Draco felt disoriented, he seemed to forget what had shaken him. He walked slowly down to the stage, eyes half-closed watching as Harry swayed with the music. The music was so light and energetic and joyous that Draco stood there letting it wash over him. He somehow felt like crying but knew that was ridiculous.

He watched Harry play. How the slender fingers danced over the fingerboard, how he bent at the hips and rocked as his bow moved expertly over the strings. How he breathed, slow and with the music. He seemed to live for the music, everything moving in synch with it. He noticed the small smile on Harry's lips and was struck with sudden realization.

He stood, almost gaping when the piece ended and Harry opened his eyes and lowered his bow and violin to his side. Still smiling, he turned towards the aisle where Draco was standing. "Draco! I didn't see you there."

Draco blinked. Harry's mouth was moving but he didn't hear the words, he was still attempting to comprehend the sudden realization. "Draco?" Draco slowly raised his eyes to meet the concerned green pools. Harry was wearing contacts, he'd been doing that more often lately. Draco took a deep breath and was surprised that it was difficult to do. "Are you alright?"

Draco shook his head in dazed amazement. "I love you," he whispered and heard the sound of Harry's bow clattering to the floor.

* * *

It was snowing outside and Seamus was watching the flakes fall. He had always liked snowfalls, though he found the cold rather irritating, though it did supply a good reason to drink so it could not be completely bad. He sighed and looked over to Ron who had just come out of his room. Ron still hadn't forgiven yet, though Harry had. Seamus nodded, not wanting to risk dialogue only to find his polite 'hello' being used as a jumpstart to another argument.

"Seamus," Ron said, and Seamus smiled at him.

"Heya, Ron.""

"Look, I just want to say that I don't trust you, but ... but I forgive you."

"Really, Ron. If you're going to forgive me, you've got to do it all the way."

"No, I don't. You betrayed your promise. I can't trust you until you prove that you won't do it again. That you've learned. But I forgive you for hurting Harry because, well, it doesn't make much sense to hold the grudge when Harry's already forgiven you."

"Thanks Ron." Ron nodded and turned to go.

* * *

Blaise frowned and pushed the beans around on his plate. He was concentrating. Something had changed and he couldn't figure-out what. Harry had a small wistful smile on his face and he was talking animatedly with Ron and Neville. Draco was talking to Seamus and Dean and was laughing. But there was something ... "Hey, what's wrong, Blaise?"

"Nothing." He turned back to his meal, ignoring Dean's curious look and tried to figure-out what was different. He looked over at Draco again and nearly choked, Draco had an eyebrow quirked at him in a superior way and was smirking and then, without any reason, his body jerked to the left as if he had been hit and he looked sheepishly to his right where Harry was still engaged in conversation with Ron. Then Harry looked-up and smiled at Blaise and Draco sighed, turning back to Seamus with his usual expression on his face. What the hell was going on?

"Draco!" he called as everyone headed back up to res. Draco stopped and looked back at him. "Can I talk to you?" Blaise asked when he had caught-up to the blond. Draco shrugged. "Look," he asked as they started walking. "What's going on?" Draco looked at him with a blank expression, but his eyes were glittering. "I know something has changed, I want to know what." Draco looked up at the group ahead of them. Seamus was hiding behind Ron as Dean tried to chase him, probably to get revenge for something the Irish boy had just done. Neville and Harry were laughing and talking. "What's going on?" Blaise asked again, and Harry turned back to look at them. Draco turned to face Blaise, a small smirk on his face.

"Nothing," he said, and hurried to catch-up with the group.

"Bastard," Blaise muttered.

* * *

"Who's your favorite composer?" Draco asked, and Harry sighed, shifting against him so that his head could lie more comfortably on Draco's shoulder. It was midnight but neither of them had been able to sleep.

"Vivaldi."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Really? I wouldn't have thought." Harry shrugged and Draco rapped his arms more tightly around the boy's waist.

"Who's yours?"

Draco bit his lip. He had been conditioned to reply with Mozart, or Beethoven, but really, Draco had never really liked them that much. "Grieg."

Harry laughed. "I've always loved the Pyr Gynt Suite. What's your favorite piano piece?"

"I don't really have one. What about you?"

"Hm. I would have to say Claire de Lune."

"Debussy?"

Harry nodded. "I don't know, I've always liked it.."

Draco shrugged. "Favorite violin piece, then."

"Vivaldi's Concerto 6 in A Minor. The Allegro movement was what made me go in to violin."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "When I was really little my mum, for Christmas, bought me a tape, "Vivaldi's Ring of Mystery"." Draco laughed. "Shut up, I loved that tape. It was about a child, a violinist, who was orphaned and went to Venice to stay in an orphanage. She played the Allegro at one point, and right then I wanted to be able to play that piece. My mum noticed that I kept listening to that section of the tape all the time, and got me the cd that had that piece on it, along with the music and told me that this would be my goal. My dad booked me lessons and I started to learn the violin. Of course, I had to start on Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. God, that would drive me crazy because it was nothing like Vivaldi."

Draco laughed, picturing a young Harry playing Twinkle Twinkle with an intensity reserved for serious musicians. "What's your favorite piece?" Harry's question snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I've never really had one. Though, I think I do now."

"Really? Which is that?" Harry lifted his head to look Draco in the eye.

Draco grinned. "The same as yours, but for a different reason." Harry blushed and Draco took the opportunity to give him a kiss on his nose. They lay there for a while, sprawled-out on the couch in much the same way as they had in November. Draco had just begun to think that Harry was asleep when the boy sighed and spoke.

"We should tell Ron soon. He may pitch a fit but I don't see any reason to keep us secret. Unless you do?" Draco heard the nervous tone and lifted a hand, running it through the soft dark hair. He smiled to himself because this is exactly what he had been wanting to do for a very long time.

"No, I don't see any reason whatsoever." Harry let out a quiet breath and Draco kissed his head. "Do you want me to be with you when you tell him?"

"I don't know. Yeah, if you want. For all the banter you exchange, he does like you. He's just ..."

"Protective."

Harry nodded and then yawned. "Today was a good day." Draco laughed at this and they snuggled down in to the couch.

* * *

"I knew it!" Came a triumphant shout, and Draco opened an eye blearily. He was immediately confronted by a row of white teeth. He blinked again and the teeth moved back, allowing him to see Blaise's entire face.

"You have horrible morning breath," Draco whined, but Blaise still grinned. "Knew what?" Draco asked, when the words that had woken him sunk-in.

"That something was going on. You're doing it again." Blaise smirked.

"Doing what?" He shifted and realized it was difficult to do. He looked down and noticed that Harry was, once again, curled on top of him. He grinned. "Oh."

"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Blaise looked at the grinning boy and was dumbfounded. "When did this happen?" He tried to stop himself from shouting.

"Yesterday morning," Draco mumbled. "And stop shouting, he's still asleep." He lifted a hand and began to run his fingers through the ruffled hair. Blaise's shocked expression slowly turned into a huge grin.

"About bloody time. Were you planning on telling us anytime soon, or was this supposed to slip-by our notice?"

"We wanted to tell Ron first, since he's going to have the most difficulty."

Blaise nodded. "It won't be because he doesn't like you. He's just worried that Harry will get hurt or ..."

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Blaise and Draco winced and Harry sat bolt-upright looking around and catching sight of Ron immediately. "Harry? What happened?" Harry looked around as if he was trying to find the cause for Ron's outburst and immediately caught-sight of Draco who was looking at him calmly, waiting for a response.

Harry slowly smiled. "Morning," Harry whispered, and Draco smiled back, relief flooding him. If there had been an opportunity for Harry to back-down that had been it, and he hadn't.

"Morning."

"Harry!" Harry looked-up at Ron, and Blaise took the opportunity to slip-out of the common room, retreating to his bedroom where he pressed his ear against his door.

"Ron, morning." Harry smiled, and Ron just looked dumbfounded. "Want some coffee?" Ron blinked owlishly at him but nodded and Harry hopped up, making three coffees. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions but, well, I have something to tell you, first," Harry said with a small smile. Draco sat-up and watched as Harry poured the coffee and brought it over. Ron was waiting expectantly for Harry's news. "Draco and I are together. And before you get mad at me, it only happened yesterday morning, and I was going to tell you but, well, you were talking about Hermione all-day and there wasn't an opportunity for me to slip it in to the conversation. You're the first to know, though." Harry bit his lip, and Draco quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Actually, I think Blaise was here earlier." He turned to Draco. "Does Blaise know?"

"Yes, he figured it out."

"I told you all those looks you were giving him at dinner would tip him off. Okay then, Ron, you're the second. But that's not through a choice of mine." Ron blinked again. He had not taken a sip of his coffee yet. "I know you're going to be upset, and that's fine, but ..."

"Don't tell me what I should feel!" Ron suddenly broke in. "Look, Harry, I don't know how you cant trust him so suddenly! He shook McLain's hand, remember?" Harry's mouth dropped open and Draco quickly took his mug away before he dropped it. He set both mugs on the table and was glad he did when Harry's hands suddenly clenched in to fists.

"I can't believe you! You were the one who was defending him before! And now you're throwing it back at him? He didn't know. You yourself said so! I can't ... it's just ... oh fuck it! You're unbelievable, Ron! How can you change on a dime like that?! No, just leave it!" Harry snapped when Ron tried to speak to him again. Instead, Harry stomped to his bedroom.

Draco looked at Ron. He knew he should be angry, but he wasn't. He understood Ron's protectiveness, understood it quite well because he felt the same way. Which was why he wasn't angry, he was too preoccupied with wanting to make sure Harry was okay. He stood and left, knocking quietly on Harry's door before opening it and stepping in.

* * *

"You're an idiot, you know that, right?" Ron's head shot up and he glared at Blaise.

"What?"

"You. Are. An. Idiot."

Ron nodded. "I thought that was what you'd said."

"It is. And it's true. Of all the things you could have said, you couldn't have been rational, could you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Blaise said, sitting on the other armchair and taking Harry's mug that had been abandoned on the table. "That you couldn't just say that you were worried about him and wanted him to be happy, you had to launch a personal attack on Draco. Not even a well-founded one. You threw-back at them exactly what you had once defended Draco from at the beginning of the year."

"I don't know what I was thinking. It's just ... well, after Tom Harry's kept himself so distant and it just seemed so ..."

"If you're going to say sudden, I could smack you."

"Why not? He hasn't calmed down any? You remember how he used to be? He hasn't relaxed any about being around people."

"And he won't, Ron. But he has around Draco, and that's something. He needs someone who he can trust who can reach-out and touch him, and maybe after he gets hugged enough without a demand for something else, he'll ease-up a bit."

Ron sighed. "Do we even know that Draco won't demand something else?"

"If you saw how Draco looks at him, you'd trust him."

"How does he look at him?"

Blaise smirked. "Well, there are a lot of looks. Mostly he looks at Harry the same way Harry looks at him." Ron quirked an eyebrow. "With love, Ron."

Ron snorted, and then looked away. "I'd like to brush that off but, you know, I think I've seen it."

Blaise nodded. "And then there are the times when Draco looks at Harry the same way you do."

"How's that?" Ron asked, a bit defensively.

"Like you're going to rip the throat out of the next person who breaths in a way you don't approve of around Harry."

Ron grinned suddenly. "Draco does that?"

"Yes, he does."

"Good." He stood and, still grinning, looked back at Blaise. "I think I'll go give them my blessing then."

* * *

"Harry?" Harry looked up and rolled his eyes. "Harry, come on."

"I don't believe him." Draco was taken aback by the snarl. "How can he do that? When you first came, I said that exact same thing!" He stopped and bit his lip, turning back to Draco sheepishly. "Sorry, I mean, I didn't know you that well and ... well I trusted you and that scared me so I used whatever excuse I could find."

Draco nodded. "I understand."

"But he defended you. He has no right to say those things when he defended you!" Draco nodded and Harry, who had gotten dressed, fumbled with his shoe. "I know he worries about me. I told him to stop, but he won't. But now he's protecting me from something I need!" Draco sighed and walked over, kneeling down by Harry who was perched on the bed and took the shoe that Harry was attempting to wedge on to his foot. He slipped the shoe on and tied it up.

"Harry, calm down. You have to remember that to Ron, it is a shock. He didn't see us that day on the couch." Draco noticed that Harry blushed a bit. "And it's not as if we've been flirting or anything."

"How hypocritical. He and Hermione hadn't been either, but they've been corresponding as if they've been in a three year relationship. I never said anything about it."

"You, thankfully, are not Ron."

Harry snorted, and then laughed. "Unwanted mental imagine of you and Ron snogging."

Draco cringed. "That's taking my friendship with Ron a bit too far, thanks." But he laughed just the same. They were rolling on the floor in hysterics when the door opened.

"Harry?" Harry stopped laughing abruptly and sat up. "Harry, I just want to apologize for saying that stuff. It was stupid and I only did it 'cause," he caught sight of Draco and frowned. "Well, I was worried about you."

Draco looked at Harry for a reaction and Harry relaxed and smiled a bit. "I know."

"Good. Well, then. I'm happy for you, just ... be careful."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Ron." He got up and gave Ron a hug which Ron returned before turning to leave. He suddenly turned back and glared at Draco.

"And if you hurt him in any way, I'll find you." Draco nodded solemnly and then, when the door shut was confronted by a grinning Harry.

"Believe it, Draco. If you hurt me, I'll find you, too."

Draco snorted. "I have no intention of hurting you." Harry nodded in satisfaction. "But I do intend to tickle you senseless." Harry squeaked before he was tackled, and then became to laugh hysterically as Draco proved he was as good as his word.

* * *

"When are you leaving, then?" Neville asked and Draco looked-up. It had been a three days since he and Harry had gotten together. And they had told the rest of their section-mates the same day they had told Ron. No one was very surprised and Harry had been momentarily flustered by this.

"On the sixteenth. My father's coming to pick me up."

Harry looked-up sharply. "Your father? You said you were staying here for Christmas."

Draco sighed. "I was, but then my father decided to change his mind. I'm going home, now." Harry frowned darkly and Draco knew this meant a serious conversation when they were alone. He sighed. He loved spending time with Harry but he had realized in the short amount of time they had been together, that Harry could be just as fierce and protective as Draco could be.

Sure enough, Harry stood and, after a tense look at Draco, retreated to his room. Draco stayed and spoke a bit more to Neville before walking down the short hallway and knocking lightly. There was no response, but Draco opened the door, knowing he was expected. No sooner had he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him did Harry turn to look at him. It was not the reaction he was expecting. Draco had been expecting Harry to yell at him for not telling him sooner. To complain that Draco had promised that they would have Christmas together. He was not expecting this concerned look.

"You said you were staying here."

"I know, I just found out on Saturday. That's why I was looking for you but then ..." Harry smiled softly and then the concern was back.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Draco frowned. No one had ever asked him that. "What do you mean?" Harry shifted awkwardly and then looked away completely.

"I just ... I know music, Draco. I really do. And I heard you play ..." This was Harry's explanation and Draco caught-on right away.

"I'll be fine, Harry. I promise."

Harry bit his lip and Draco was momentarily distracted. He wished that he could kiss Harry but he reminded himself that they were moving slowly. "I want to believe you but ... can't you stay?"

"He's my father ..." Harry sighed, still avoiding his eyes. "Harry? Can I ask you a favor?" Harry looked back at him, startled. "Will you ... will you help me remember how to play?"

Harry smiled and then lunged forward rapping his arms tightly around Draco and Draco could only hold the boy close. "Yes." Draco sighed and rested his head on Harry's shoulder.

"It will be okay, I promise." But Draco wondered who he was trying to convince.

* * *

TBC

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

This chapter dedicated to Nil-Blaze who inspired me to get cracking on the next chapter right about the time that I posted the edited version of the last one. And for the marvelous review. Thanks, the Goddess-Muse was with me on this one, and Shaye (my niece) appreciates the dragon plushie It's never too early to start educating the children in the fine art of Draco-luvin. Hee hee. Notice that I did note the 'desperately'. Thanks bunches!

AND

To Julia, aka JJ, who is my Beta reader! YAY!! And also because of that fabulous review I got. And it was the first one in five years that you actually reviewed. I am really thankful that you chose my fic to review!! Especially such a long one. It made my day.

* * *

TEASER:

Snogging

Yelling

Parting of Ways

* * *


	6. Danse Macabre

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Six: Danse Macabre

* * *

"I think it's twisted," Neville muttered and Draco smirked.

Ron rolled his eyes and settled back into the chair he was sitting in. "Honestly, Neville. Don't you ever get tired of playing god-damned Mother Ginger and the fucking Nutcracker Suite every Christmas?" Neville pouted and Draco had to choke back a laugh at the expression on Ron's face as he said this.

"Well ... I just ... It's just a bit ... dark. For Christmas anyway."

The door opened and Draco's smirk turned to a grin as Harry and Blaise entered. "What are we talking about?" Blaise asked and winked at Draco when Harry went directly over to the blond and settled himself comfortably in the small space between Dean and Draco. It wasn't that much room since it was a small sofa made for three, and Seamus was sort of sprawling on his end. As a result, Harry was sitting quite close to Draco, but he didn't seem bothered in the least.

They had been together for over a week and though Harry wasn't too quick to panic when they were in private, he still remained a bit distanced when in public, even when they were with friends. Draco figured it was to prevent anyone from coming to the same conclusion that Tom Riddle had about the need for reassurance and comfort that Harry got through contact. Draco didn't mind. They were moving slowly and that was fine so long as they were together.

"The concert. Advanced Strings are performing the Danse Macabre as their piece," Draco explained and Blaise quirked an eyebrow showing his surprise.

Harry grinned. "I think it's brilliant. If I have to play Mother Ginger one more time I think I could go mad." Draco chuckled and Neville shifted. "You don't like it, Nev?" asked Harry when he saw the boy squirm.

"Well. It's a bit dark, isn't it? And ... I like Mother Ginger," he muttered a bit defensively. Harry chuckled.

Seamus rolled his eyes. "I think it's a welcome change. And anyway, Nev, it's not as if you're playing it." It was true, Neville was not in advanced strings. "Have they finished auditions yet?" Seamus asked, shifting the topic.

Draco had discovered that the school, on the last-night before holidays commenced, had a celebration of the accomplishments of its students. The art students had a showing, and the music students each performed. Each group, advanced and regular, as well as the soloists, were given an opportunity to perform a piece. When the new term restarted, the drama students presented a play.

Since Harry, Ron and Draco were all in advanced strings they were celebrating the fact that Madame Pereskew had decided to branch-out from Tchaikovsky and play the Danse Macabre, an energetic piece that Draco had discovered Harry absolutely adored. It was true that anything "macabre" wasn't really suitable for Christmas, but Harry had alluded to some trouble Pereskew had recently had with a lover which had inspired her decision. Which was why they were three weeks to the concert and still undergoing auditions.

"I had mine," Harry shrugged, and Draco nodded.

"Me too. What about you, Ron?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I did mine this morning. I think I was the last one so positions should be up tomorrow morning," Ron said.

"How's the play going?" Draco asked and Blaise shrugged.

"We've finally started on set-painting," he said as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Shouldn't the art students be doing that?" Ron asked.

"No, drama students. Apparently all actors must be multi-talented. So they've got us doing set-painting and also technical stuff. I mean, if you didn't make cast. Which, luckily, I did."

"As what? The horny and egotistical ruler of a small empire?" Ron muttered and Blaise quirked an eyebrow.

"I'll choose to ignore that. And no, it's nothing like that. We've written our own play. It's a docudrama." The conversation continued on and Draco tugged on Harry's sleeve, feeling a little dizzy when Harry shifted and turned to look at him, bringing their faces quite close.

"Are you in it?" he asked.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I volunteered for lighting. I've never done it before and it seemed interesting." Draco nodded in time to see Dean suddenly leap-up from his chair, an expression of horror on his face.

"That reminds me! I haven't started that piece for the show! I have two pieces left!"

Harry shifted again and Draco looked at him curiously. "I, er. I haven't finished either," Harry muttered.

"What?" Draco was surprised. Usually Harry was quite good with keeping schedule with his art work, even if essays and homework took extra effort on Draco's part to convince his boyfriend to complete them. "Why haven't you finished?"

"I. Well it's just ..." Draco understood right away. They had been together for a week and they had spent all of their free-time together.

"It's okay. I understand."

Harry blushed a bit and turned away. "I should probably go now and work on it ... er ... you could come. If you want." Draco took one look at the uncertain expression of the dark-haired boy's face and grinned.

"Sure. I'll bring my work though, so that I can be productive, too." Harry grinned back at him and Dean went bolting passed them, art-box in hand.

"Hold-up, Dean! We're coming!"

* * *

"Harry! Boys! What are you doing here?" Sirius asked as they stumbled through the door, grinning madly. They had raced there but, since all three had simultaneously attempted to shove their bodies through the small door at the same time, Draco figured there was no winner.

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry called and nearly tripped as he tried to push himself through the door where he was wedged between Dean and the hinges. "Dean and I have come to work on our pieces for the show. Draco's just here to look pretty," he said.

Draco mock-pouted and then shrugged. "Well, you do have a point." He pretended to preen and Sirius chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Well, best get to work. Will you be alright? I've made arrangements but if you think you'll have any questions about technique or something I can stay for a bit."

"No, we should be fine," Dean said and Sirius nodded.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked as he pulled a smock over his head, tying it behind his waist with practised ease.

"Out," Sirius said with a mysterious grin.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, you crazy Dog," Harry muttered and Sirius stepped over and ruffled his nephew's hair. Draco watched with amusement as they mock-fought.

"Now be good little boys and don't burn down the art room while I'm away," Sirius said, and Harry rolled his eyes, waving a hand lazily at his uncle as he disappeared into the pit. "Draco, watch that little pyro, will you?" Draco snorted and shook his head and Dean laughed.

"He couldn't help it!" Dean said between laughs.

Draco perked-up. "Couldn't help what?" he asked curiously.

"Harry nearly blew-up the art room in first year," Dean said as if it were standard knowledge.

Spotting his confused look Sirius elaborated, "We were doing wood-burning," Sirius began before Harry poked his head out from the doorway to the Pit and frowned.

"Yes, wood-burning. And it was hardly the whole art room, was it? It was just my piece. And it was your own fault for insisting that the bloody burner needed to be heated up longer!"

"Either way, we needed to use one of those mini fire-extinguishers," Sirius said gravely and Harry snorted.

"No, you used that mini fire-extinguisher because you always wanted to see what it was like. Stop using me as an excuse for your own recklessness," Harry mumbled and Draco could only chuckle as Harry stuck his tongue out at his uncle before disappearing into the Pit. Dean waved good-bye to Sirius and followed Harry.

"I'll see you later, Sirius," Draco said, still smirking.

"Sure thing, Draco," Sirius said as he picked-up his briefcase that was covered in dry acrylic paint and headed out the door.

* * *

"No surprise here, is it Potter?" The voice startled Harry and he stopped and faced McLain and his small group, a frown marring his brow. Draco took a step forward, unconsciously placing himself between Harry and the boy.

"What is it now, McLain?" Harry asked.

The boy smirked darkly and Draco was sharply reminded of his own smirk. "Child Prodigy Potter making, once again, lead violin in our wonderful little concert. Some things never change, do they?" Harry blinked in surprise at hearing that he had made lead. He was torn between excitement at the news and anger because of McLain. It was all part of the old threat that Harry had seduced his teachers. "And oh so natural that the Child Prodigy would only associate with the pianist. A solo. Such a bloody honour. You're so unbelievably full-of it, Potter, that it sickens me."

Draco growled. "Leave, now, before I make you leave." McLain, who had been laughing, stopped when he saw Draco's face. There was something about it, perhaps in the threatening set of his lips which had thinned into a slash, or the set of his jaw or the poison in his eyes, but McLain, after attempting a recovery by snorting and rolling his eyes, left promptly.

"You're the piano part. There's only one pianist," Harry said, grinning. "Congratulations," he added and Draco shook his head, startled by Harry's quick recovery.

"Same to you," he said and Harry waved it away.

"I've bedded Pereskew enough to assure myself the role of lead violin. But you, that's another story." Draco forgot that Dean was even there and stared at Harry and how flippantly he was reacting to the whole thing. He knew the boy well enough to realize he was dealing with his shock and anger, and desperately didn't want Draco to see it.

"Is that what they said?" he whispered, and Harry shrugged. Seeing the darkening of the boy's once bright green eyes Draco inwardly sighed and decided to let it go. "Well, I think we've discovered why we're playing the Danse Macabre, you saucy minx." Harry blinked in surprise then laughed and Dean flashed a relieved smile at Draco and Draco winked back.

"Come on, lets check to see what the others are," Harry said and rushed to the strings room where the posting was.

* * *

The Danse Macabre (1) was an intricate piece that was really quite fast. Draco couldn't help but like it immediately.

They had long practice hours, not simply in class, but they also met on the weekends and after school hours. Draco found that he kept having to shift his independent practices around and found himself sneaking to the piano classroom early in the morning or wandering in late at night.

He sat there again running over the piano section for the Danse and remembering how it sounded with a full orchestra. It was amazing. He thought about how Harry played, it was the perfect piece for him and he led it impeccably well. Though the dark-haired boy would sometimes get frustrated because Pereskew had them playing at a slower tempo and Harry kept being tempted to speed-up. Draco found it amusing and loved the fact that Harry relied on him and his piano accompaniment to keep him in check.

He remembered how Harry had made Pereskew promise to let them play it at tempo for the performance at least. It was truly an amazing piece. Fast-paced and exultant, like burning fire that made him dizzy. "Just breathe," and it took him a moment to realize this was not a command from his own self but from someone.

Harry.

He stopped playing and smirked. "It's addictive," he said and Harry laughed.

"I've been secretly hoping that we played it, but I never imagined we ever would. Pereskew is very strict. It's always Tchaikovsky for Christmas and something equally predictable for spring. The parents appreciate it, most are really quite uptight."

Draco smiled at Harry's wince. "Somehow I think we might be the cause of several heat-attacks. This, at Christmas, in front of an already reserved audience."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not as if they know what it means. It's not as if there are lyrics that swear and curse and hail Beelzebub and all that ... The piece is festive." When Draco looked at him doubtfully, Harry blinked angelically. "Well, it certainly has spirit." Draco laughed. "Now, I'm interrupting your playing and I didn't want that. I just wanted to listen."

"That's fine. I interrupt yours just as often." Harry rolled his eyes again and sat on one of the other piano benches. "Any comments?" he asked.

"None, you were playing wonderfully." Draco couldn't help but grin. As his boyfriend, anything flattering that Harry could say was wonderful, but as a musician, and one with Harry's talent, Draco felt quite content.

"It's good to be back," he said to himself and started to play.

* * *

Blaise sighed dramatically as he flopped onto the sofa, immediately squashing Ron and Dean and Seamus who were occupying it. Draco and Harry had already claimed the two armchairs and were settled comfortably, each nursing a mug of hot-chocolate. "Our first Friday free and I'm too tired to do anything," he murmured but refused to move when Seamus poked him.

"Put in a movie," Neville suggested from his position, resting against Harry's armchair.

"Smashing idea, Nev. What do you suggest?"

"I'm up for something ridiculously childish," Ron said.

Draco snorted. "Nothing new. It probably stems from your desire to be able to follow the plot." Harry quelled a laugh and Seamus cackled merrily.

"Sod off, Draco," Ron muttered.

"You're losing your edge, Ron. Your witty banter has become quite pathetic," Draco drawled as he sipped at his hot chocolate.

"I'm too sodding tired to give a damn about witty banter. Someone choose a damn movie, I'm too tired to care."

Neville shrugged. "I have some Disney films in my room."

"Disney sounds both amusing enough to keep us interested and dull enough to make sure our brains cease to function. Go for it!" Blaise said.

"What?" Neville said. "I have to go?"

"Nev. Let me tell you something. You just offered a film that, I may add, belongs to you. Therefore, it is only polite for you to go and get it," Dean said jokingly and Neville sighed.

"Am I really the only one who isn't lazy enough to stand-up and get a bloody movie?"

"Yes!" Everyone cried in unison, and Neville complied.

He returned holding up a film. "I have Peter Pan!"

"I hate Peter Pan," Harry murmured quietly, but Draco turned his head.

"You hate Peter Pan?" he asked, and everyone's head turned and Harry blushed a bit.

"Well ... yes." Everyone blinked, as if they couldn't get their head around this new bit of information.

"Why?" Seamus asked.

"Well ... Wendy leaves Peter," Harry answered.

"She leaves to go back to her parents. She wants to grow-up," Draco explained, finding the almost childish way Harry looked, sinking back into the armchair, blushing slightly and looking sheepish, quite endearing.

"Yeah," Harry said, "But she leaves love behind. What could be more important than that?"

Draco blinked back at the wide green eyes. He thought about it for a moment. "Nothing," he said feeling as if he had just received deep insight into his boyfriend's mind.

"Exactly," Harry said with a bit more confidence. "Which is why I hate Peter Pan."

"Alright, Neville. Go get another!" Blaise ordered. And Neville shook his head, turning around and retreating to his room.

This time when he returned he had The Lion King. "Because Timon reminds me of Blaise," he explained and they laughed.

* * *

"Draco!" A familiar shout startled Draco and he stopped walking and turned around. Beside him Harry turned as well and they both smiled as Hermione came running up to them. "I just wanted to wish you luck before you went on. I'm so excited to hear you all play!" she grinned and then her eyes shifted off to the right and Draco shook his head.

"I'll send Ron out, Hermione. Don't worry."

Hermione blushed and tried to look casual. "Thanks," she said and Harry chuckled and was about to say something when another shout caught their attention.

"Harry!" Harry spun around and saw Madame Pereskew waving frantically at him. He rolled his eyes to Draco and nodded to Hermione before he turned and rushed over to her.

"I know I've said it a million times in letters, Draco, but ... congratulations." Hermione beamed at him.

Draco rolled his eyes, trying not to grin or blush. "How are you here, anyway?"

"Oh! I ended class just yesterday and I so wanted to hear you all play so I took the bus over here and then I'm looping back tomorrow morning to my house."

Draco shook his head. "You miss him that much?"

"Well ... He's a darling and it's harder to keep a relationship going through correspondence." She sighed and then grinned as she spotted Ron. "Oh, well, good luck, Draco. Really. And I'll see you later." She gave him a kiss on his cheek and rushed over to Ron.

Draco shook his head as he watched his best friend rush over to Ron and then he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Blaise or Seamus or Dean there to wish him luck. Instead he was greeted by his father.

"Father," he said, more to process the presence of the man then by way of greeting.

"Draco. Your mother and I are in the audience." This seemed like a strange comment.

"Why didn't mother come back here?" Draco asked, and Lucius Malfoy scowled.

"I hope you will not disappoint us, Draco," Lucius said, ignoring his son's question. Draco nodded and his father glared at him pointedly before turning and leaving.

Before he could fully process the strange encounter, Draco felt Harry's hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Harry asked quietly.

"Fine," Draco muttered.

"We're on!" Pereskew called, and Draco turned quickly, hurrying to take his place on stage. Harry watched him for a moment before sighing and rushing to follow.

When the piece was announced, the reaction was hardly what Harry had been expecting and he realized it was likely because the parents were not familiar with it and its origins. He had supposed they should guess from the rather blatant title, but came to the conclusion that an hour spent listening to the rather complacent tones of Mozart and Tchaikovsky (in comparison to this piece,) would have made the titles and composer irrelevant. By this point the audience had accepted the fact that the musicians were going to play whatever piece they had chosen, and nothing was going to stop them.

He smirked and adjusted his violin, waiting for the count-in.

He started pianissimo and had to stop himself from holding his breath as the cellos plucked their opening notes. Then he let into his violin, coaxing the chords to ring through the hall. He allowed his fingers to dance. Harry loved this piece; as light and elegant as it was brazen and fierce. He was trying to regulate his breathing which he had always had difficulty doing with pieces like this. It was ingrained in his head, one of the few things his mother emphasized with him, that breathing was supposed to be according to music, but sometimes Harry got carried away.

He made it to his rest and sucked in a breath. There was something off, he noticed and, when Pereskew cued him, he forced himself to pay attention. It faint but there it was.

The piano.

Draco had always kept in step with him in practice, both of them fuelling the other until they set the music aflame. But this, Draco was playing notes again.

Anger rose in Harry. Draco hadn't changed. His father had thrown him off completely. How was he going to survive the holidays if he could barely stand a minute's conversation?

How had Draco survived at all?

Harry knew from experience what it felt like to be confined to "proper" forms of playing. Snape had done more than his fair share in convincing Harry that he didn't know what he was doing. And there had been others before Snape. Several violin teachers who had made Harry feel quite inept when it came to music. And it had only changed because his father had sat-in on a lesson. And then, after that, Harry had just grown sick of people telling him what he was supposed to and not supposed to be doing.

He didn't care. So long as he learned his way around the instrument and his way around the music, interpreting a piece was his business.

Draco was in the same exact position except, Harry thought, he didn't have someone to talk sense to him and make him realize there was another way to do things. That there was a choice to be made. That Lucius Malfoy knew fuck-all about music.

Harry sighed as the piece finished. He refused to meet Draco's eye even though he was certain the grey orbs had glanced his way. They stood and bowed and Harry was still deep in thought.

Draco did have someone.

Draco had him.

But why the hell would Draco ever listen to him? What was he to the boy? A close friend and boyfriend.

Which would probably mean nothing when tossed against Lucius Malfoy: role-model and father.

He sighed and left the stage before anyone else could.

* * *

The other presentations went passed Draco in a blur. He was too confused to care about them. Something was wrong and he didn't know what it was. After the Advanced Strings' performance Harry had seemed upset and he didn't know why. It was bothering him.

His own solo of a Für Elise had gone passed and he hardly remembered anything except the heat of the stage lights. He had barely felt the keys beneath his fingers.

The band was the last to perform and as soon as he heard the applause he hurried to the back stage where Harry was still packing-up his violin from his earlier solo and arranging his music. Dodging Ron's curious look he was just opening his mouth to catch Harry's attention when the boy picked-up his violin case and exited the back-stage.

"Did you two fight?" Ron asked, coming to stand beside him.

"No," Draco said, completely confused.

"Well, he was completely off tonight. And so were you," Ron stated.

"What?" Draco asked, turning to face the orange-haired boy.

"You weren't playing like you did in practice. I mean, it wasn't completely obvious, but I know you two and I could tell. What was going on up there? I didn't catch much, I mean, I was sort of involved in my cello part, but I noticed that you were off. And for your solo, too. And Harry was certainly preoccupied in his solo. Are you sure you two didn't have a fight?" Draco shook his head but knew what the problem likely was. He waved Ron's questions off and followed Harry's path from backstage.

* * *

"Hermione!" Ron called and smiled as he saw her weaving her way through the crowd.

"Where's Draco?" she asked, looking around with a frown.

"I don't know. Something was going on with Harry and Draco went to check on him."

"Something's wrong with Harry?" Dean asked as he popped-up beside them along with Seamus, Neville and Blaise.

"I don't know, didn't you hear? They were both off tonight."

Hermione's frown turned more severe. "Draco's parents are here. His dad is really severe. That's probably why Draco was off, but I have no idea about Harry." Everyone shrugged.

"We should probably find them, you know. Damage Control and all that," Seamus suggested and they nodded.

"You were really wonderful," Hermione whispered as she tugged Ron to walk a bit behind everyone.

"Thanks. I had good inspiration," Ron said, blushing a little.

"What?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"You." Ron grinned and Hermione couldn't help but grin right back.

* * *

"Harry, what's wrong?" Draco asked when he finally caught-up with his boyfriend.

"Nothing. That's what you said, right? Nothing's wrong."

Draco frowned. "You're mad about my father?" he asked, unsure of what was going on but completely aware of the fact that he was on thin ice.

"No. Yes. Not completely," Harry said, obviously flustered, and Draco grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a classroom, shutting the door behind him.

"What is it?" Draco asked, mentally bracing himself.

"It's you. You haven't changed. I mean, you have. You're playing was incredible, and then, all of a sudden, you're back to playing like an ice prince. I don't understand it! I mean, I know what it feels like, but I can't figure-out why you can't stand-up to it. You're stronger than this!"

"You think I'm holding back?" Draco asked, feeling both overwhelmed by the entire night and angry because of everything. He was angry with his father for always affecting him like this, with his mother for leaving him alone to deal with his father. With Harry for knowing that he was weak and for expecting him to change that. For not letting him maintain the precarious balance in his life.

"I know you, Draco. I've heard you play," Harry retorted and there was distress and desperation in his eyes, but Draco didn't see it.

"Then what about you? If I hold back then you do, too!" he snarled.

"What?" Harry blinked in confusion.

"Oh, come on! Look at it! Look at Little Mischief! The things you can do with that ruddy violin are unbelievable and you won't let anyone hear you! You always practice by yourself and only a limited number of people know about it and have heard you play! You're holding back just as much as I am!" Draco fumed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Draco! This isn't about my electric. This is about you freezing up when you're around your father. It's actually not even about the ruddy piano because that's not where it comes from, it's just a sign that there's something wrong. It's you. It's in your bloody head! You have to stop letting him command you and throw you off."

"I can't believe this!" Draco snarled. "He's my bloody father! What do you want me to do? What can I possibly do?"

"I don't know," Harry said softly and sighed. "There's always something." Draco stared at him a moment and then huffed, turning on his heel and marching out of the room.

Harry slumped against a desk, putting his head in his hands and trying to stop his head from spinning. He was worried about Draco but had no clue how to help him. He heard the door open again but didn't look up. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone. "Go away," he mumbled.

"I don't think I will," a voice purred and Harry was immediately on the defensive.

"McLain."

* * *

"Hey, Draco. Everything alright now?" Neville asked and then blinked as Draco snarled and pushed passed them.

"Guess that would be a 'no', Nev," Seamus said, but he looked completely serious.

"Honestly, does anyone have any idea of what's going on? Because I'm bloody confused!" Blaise whinged and everyone agreed with him.

"Where is Harry, anyway?" Ron asked and, as if in answer to his question, a door to one of the side classrooms was slammed open, banging loudly against the wall and everyone blinked in surprise when Harry, looking completely enraged, stomped out and, without looking at anyone, stalked down one of the side halls, clutching his violin case so tightly his knuckles were white. "What the hell was that about?" Ron asked and then he saw McLain, stepping out of the room with a smirk on his face. Still gloating, he closed the door calmly, not even sparing them a look as he headed back to the Concert Hall.

"I have no clue, but I think we should tell Draco," Hermione mumbled and they all agreed.

* * *

Draco paced back-and-forth in one of the hallways for a while to regain his composure before he went to meet his parents. "Draco, where were you?" his father asked in his aristocratic drawl.

"I had to help bring the music stands back to the classes," he lied.

"Well, I would like to see the art showing. I heard some of the other parents speaking of it," Lucius said, and Draco nodded, leading his mother and father through the halls towards the two large rooms where the showing was.

"Draco, you performance was lovely."

Draco nodded at his mother and she flashed him a half-hearted smile before lapsing back into silence. "This is it, here," he said, motioning them through one of the small entrance ways. Immediately they joined the flow of people meandering through the makeshift gallery. Some of the pieces were really quite amazing, others were left much to be desired.

Draco found Dean's pieces. His theme was Heaven and Hell and Draco concluded that the boy was quite gifted. He had some photographs which he had used double exposure to create a very interesting picture that gave the impression of demons or angels or divine landscape, or alluded to dark places. His paintings were quite intense. He had used newspaper cut-outs in some, and in others he had implemented fabrics to add an intriguing depth to the piece. Draco liked the monochomatic self-portrait where Dean had cut his face down the centre, on one side he was a devil and on the other an angel. It was quite creepy to see how a few subtle changes could turn his section-mate completely evil in appearance. Dean had only done one sculpture and that was of a cross that stood almost up to Draco's hips. There were poppies at the base of it, but it was covered in barbed wire and there was a splattering of red paint on one side. It was fairly creepy.

His parents said nothing as they walked through. There was quite a range of themes, some simple and others complex. The interpretations ranged from creative to expected and, besides Dean's pieces, nothing really stood-out until he came to a familiar piece in the second room. It was a fairly large photograph that he could remember Harry developing. He supposed the figure posing must have been Ginny but there was no way to tell. She sat alone in a field wrapped in dark cloths that covered her hair. She wore an interesting mask. The contrast in the photo, which was black-and-white, and the angle which the girl was sitting at made the photograph very intriguing and Draco still, after all the times he had seen it, found it hard to look away.

Harry's theme was Fantasy, and Draco looked at each piece closely, liking the variety of interpretations. There were several sculptures out of different mediums. Draco was partial to a rather evil looking gargoyle done in soap-stone. There was a wire sculpture that had been draped with black cloth and shaped into a ghost-like figure that resembled the Spectre of Death. And there was an incredibly detailed painting of a dragon rearing back on his haunches from its seat atop a pile of treasure and blowing flame, which had a border of Celtic knots and designs. Draco was completely amazed by each piece, when he left the showing he felt better.

"Draco, go collect your things we should be going now." Draco nodded at his father and hurried back to res.

* * *

"Draco! Where the hell have you been! We've been looking all over."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Seamus. He really didn't want to waste any time. He wanted to get to Harry and speak with him before he had to leave. "I was taking my parents through the art showing. Nice work, Dean," he said, and the boy grinned.

"This is serious," Seamus cut in. "After you left we saw Harry leave this classroom, he was really angry." Draco bit his lip wondering if it was because of him. He had been a bit out-of-control. "Then McLain comes out after a bit. We haven't had a chance to ask Harry what happened. He's in his room and we didn't want to barge in."

Draco felt his anger rise but this time it was directed and one person and one person only. "It's fine. Leave him. I'll talk to him when I get back."

"When you get back?" Neville asked. "Where are you going?"

"I have to speak with McLain." He was out of his dorm in moments and did not here the whoops and cheers from his section-mates as he left.

* * *

"Peter, isn't it?" Draco asked casually, and the boy turned, grinning.

"Draco Malfoy? Finally seen the light and decided to join us?" Peter McLain was back-stage with a few of his friends.

Draco looked at them coldly and then, in one fluid motion that was too fast to be appreciated, McLain found himself pinned against a wall. "I'm going to say this once, and I hope that it will be enough to get passed that inordinately thick skull of yours. Stay the fuck away from Harry. I know what you and your little group did with Riddle. I'm watching you. If you so much as even come with in a five mile radius of him I'll make sure you regret it." McLain shuddered and Draco took the opportunity to slam him against the wall again, knocking the boy's head back. "Is that clear?"

McLain nodded. "Crystal," he muttered. And Draco released the boy letting him slide down the wall.

* * *

"Here's my home address, and my phone number just in case," Hermione said with a grin. Ron quickly pocketed them and handed over his own address and phone number. "You'll remember to write?" she asked, a little nervous.

"Have I ever forgotten?" Ron asked in return and she grinned.

"It really was lovely to hear you play. It was worth the trip."

"I'm glad you came. It was really good to see you again." They looked everywhere but at each other for a while, sharing an awkward silence until the bus pulled-up.

Another awkward moment passed before, beat-red, Ron leaned forward and kissed Hermione on the lips. "Well, I should really go. Bye," he muttered and she grinned, waving at him as she stepped onto the bus.

* * *

Draco knocked gently on the door, and when there was no response, he opened it, stepping in quietly. The lights were off but the curtains were open, so Draco could see that Harry was sprawled on his bed, his head under his pillow. "Harry?" he whispered. "Are you asleep?"

"No," came a muffled response.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, unable to stop a smile as he walked forward, sitting down on the bed and watching the pillow that was hiding his boyfriend's head.

"I'm hiding."

Draco choked back a laugh but couldn't help the grin. "Oh, good. I was afraid it was something stupid." He squawked when he was hit in the head with a pillow and when he regained his composure he was faced with a frowning Harry.

"I thought you were leaving."

"I am," Draco answered.

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked, a frown still on his face. Draco couldn't help it, he reached a hand forward and ran it through Harry's unruly hair before gently settling against Harry's cheek.

"I couldn't just leave after that argument. Besides, we never said good-bye."

Harry looked away and Draco thought he seemed a bit guilty. "I'm sorry I yelled at you I was just ... I was worried."

"I know. And I'm sorry, too. I didn't have the right to get that angry."

"No, you have the right. Draco, I understand. It's fine to get angry and upset. And don't ever stop yourself from telling me something or getting angry because you don't want to hurt me. As long as you're not cutting me up or insulting me then I won't care. I want to help and the only way I can do that is if I know what's wrong. Sometimes you need to blow-up to feel better. I won't break if you get impatient or angry. I'm not a china doll."

Draco looked at the boy closely and then leaned forward, kissing his nose. "Then the same goes for you. You have to rant and rave so that I can tell what's going on, too, then." Harry rolled his eyes. "Harry," Draco said, turning serious. "I heard about McLain. What did he say?"

Harry sighed. "The usual. He's not very creative." He tried to laugh it off but Draco brought their foreheads together and suddenly Harry went serious. "Draco, you asked me to help you remember how to play, and I promised you that I would do anything I can, and I will. But please, try and not forget while you're away," Harry asked softly and Draco sighed, closing his eyes and trying to restrain the urge to just kiss Harry right then. It was what he wanted but he wasn't sure if Harry was ready.

"I'll try," he whispered and then smiled. "I'm not Wendy." Harry smiled back at him."Will you walk with me to the Concert Hall? I'm supposed to meet my parents there." When Harry tensed slightly Draco shook his head. "Not to meet them, just to ... just for company. I don't want to leave yet, but I have to and ..." he stopped when Harry put a finger against his lips and smiled.

"I don't mind."

* * *

"Where is he? It doesn't take this long to get a suitcase,"Lucius snarled and Narcissa sighed, stepping forward and placing a hand on her husband's arm.

"I'll go find him, Lucius. I'm sure he is just saying good-bye to his roommates. I'll be back shortly."

* * *

Draco stopped just around the corner from the Concert Hall and Harry turned around looking at him curiously. "I'm not going to see you for three weeks," he said as if this were only just sinking in.

Harry frowned, walking back to him. "But you will see me. I'll still be here come January, and we can terrorize McGonagall again." Draco snorted. "It will be fine," Harry whispered, even though he wasn't sure.

"I know, it's just ... I'll miss you."

"Me too," Harry said with a half-smile. "Draco," he asked, suddenly sounding very unsure of himself and Draco was surprised to see that he was blushing. The freckles on his nose that were so very faint were suddenly backlit by rose pink and Draco grinned, finding it adorable. "I was just ... would you mind if ... Can I kiss you?" Harry asked a bit breathless, and Draco blinked, then grinned.

"Yes." Harry still looked unsure but slowly stepped forward, leaning in and carefully placing his lips against Draco's. He was about to pull away when Draco, grinning inwardly, wrapped one hand around the boy's waist and his other hand found its way into ruffled hair. He carefully ran his tongue against Harry's bottom lip and was relieved when Harry parted his lips. Draco slipped his tongue into the boy's mouth and tasted him. Faint traces of chocolate as well as a taste that was simply Harry. He was intoxicating.

Harry kissed back and Draco felt the boy's hand wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and Draco stumbled until he had pressed Harry against a wall and nothing in the world mattered because they were there together and it felt so amazing. As if the world were ending, or beginning, Draco wasn't quite sure.

But he didn't want the kiss to end.

But it had to and they reluctantly broke apart, gasping for breath and Harry was blushing and Draco was grinning. "Happy Christmas," Harry murmured, and Draco laughed.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

* * *

Narcissa blinked in surprise and she felt her eyes watering. She was overwhelmed with shock and relief and joy and pride. Her son was not his father. There had been endless moments when she had wondered if perhaps her son would turn into the same serious and cold man she had married, but here he was, and it made her want to cry and embrace him and tell him how proud she was of him, but instead she turned her back on the scene before her and walked back to where Lucius was standing.

"Did you find him?" Lucius asked.

"He's just on his way. He's saying good-bye to his friends." She smiled to herself and had to stop the small smile from growing when, moments later, Draco appeared from around the corner looking composed and calm and nodded at his parents.

"Are you ready to go?" Lucius asked, and Draco nodded.

"Yes, father, I'm ready." Narcissa watched the two men in her life walk out of the school and she watched them, marvelling at the boy who she had watched grow over the years. Her beautiful boy who had returned to her.

* * *

Draco walked after his father, pulling his suitcase along with him. It was just starting to snow and somehow that seemed fitting.

And he walked.

And as he walked he remembered. And as he did he smiled.

There was only one thing in his head as he gave his trunk to the chauffeur and settled into the car, and that was that chocolate had never before tasted to sweet.

* * *

TBC

I am unbelievably indebted to everyone who has reviewed (175!! That's mind-boggling for me!!) And I really owe EVERYONE a big huge thank-you because you're all unbelievable for taking the time to read AND review this little piece of mine (LOL little? cough gag) but every little bit helps. If you could take the time to review (even a small one, though the LONG ones make me extremely happy and usually result in my throwing work out the window and starting-in on a new chapter ...) Just a little message to let me know that you've actually read the fic and appreciated it (or found an error or something) I mean it completely when I say that reviews make me write faster. Since these few months (screw, it) since this TERM is unbelievably chaotic, please, that small amount of time you take really helps spur me on with the fic!

This chapter is dedicated to Sailor Grape for the constant reviews and encouragement. Thanks so much! Cheers!

AND to

Nekocin because anyone who can write 'luv it' that many times deserves a chapter. Here's to flying for no reason. Double thanks because it was your lengthy review that came at the perfect time to spur me to work.

* * *

TEASER:

Home for the holidays

Cold

Unexpected Ally

* * *

1. If you don't know this piece, download it or listen to it. It's great! It's by Saint-Saens. Bloody Brilliant! 


	7. Winter Chills

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Seven: Winter Chills

* * *

The taste of chocolate.

Draco unconsciously licked his lips as he stared out of the window of his bedroom. He had just arrived at Malfoy Manor an hour ago after a lengthy drive and still that exquisite taste of chocolate and Harry was on his tongue. It made his head spin to think about how Harry had looked: face flushed, faint freckles becoming clearer as they were backlit by rose-tinted flesh as Harry asked for what Draco had been pining for since he had first realized he had wanted Harry.

Which was about the moment he heard the music on his first day.

Granted, the form of his wanting had changed. It was an interesting realization for Draco that, unlike his ample crushes of the past, Harry had always been so much more. Even in the beginning when all Draco had known of Harry had been the lithe form swaying to music that had struck him to the core. Even then, there had been a certain allure, something about Harry had intrigued Draco. As they had become friends and Draco had begun to really know him, the realization that he, in fact, loved Harry had seemed a natural thing. Everyone, it seemed, loved Harry in one way or another. It was almost impossible not to.

He licked his lips again and raised a finger, pressing it against the glass and tracing patterns in the frost.

At the rate he was going, Draco was fairly certain that he would not survive three weeks of separation from the violinist. Already there was a faint panic as he realized the taste of Harry was disappearing slowly and taking the subtle trace of chocolate with it. Now all Draco had was a memory of warmth and that made him wonder if perhaps Harry was right when he had warned him to remember everything they had done together, because that was the key to the thaw.

He closed his eyes and remembered his first day at the school, walking through the heavy doors into a deserted hallway and being confronted by an impish old professor who had been flustered with the absence of his guide.

His guide.

Harry had been his guide since the beginning.

Harry.

And the taste of chocolate.

* * *

Day One.

Somehow it had acquired capitols.

Harry woke to the sound of many things clattering down, as if someone had knocked over a shelf. The subsequent curse made him smile and he waited patiently for the man to arrive. Sure enough the door slipped open and black shaggy hair and a face which sported a guilty expression appeared in the open door. "You awake?"

"Now I am," he mumbled, and Sirius grinned.

"Oops."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, still half-asleep.

"Erm, well, you know how you have that table with the coffee maker and the kettle and all that?"

"Yes," Harry said, wondering where this was going.

Sirius settled on the edge of his bed and shrugged. "Well, you don't anymore."

"What?" Harry was awake now and staring at his uncle with wide eyes.

"It collapsed."

"That's it, you are no longer allowed in my section," Harry muttered, huddling under his blankets and cursing the fact that he would have to dress and walk all the way to the Great Hall to get his coffee since their machine was probably damaged from the fall.

"Why?" Sirius asked innocently.

"Because every time you come in here you break something." Harry scowled and closed his eyes.

"Not true. Last time I didn't ..."

"The armchair."

"But when I visited at Easter ..."

"The Television."

"But then I didn't ..."

"Yes, you did. Admit it. Every time you have come here you have broken something."

Sirius sighed. "Someone's cranky. I came to ask if you would want to head back to the house today or if you wanted to stay here another night?"

"Doesn't matter. We're here every day nearly anyway. Let's head back. I miss it." In truth, he didn't want to stay in his section without Draco because everywhere he went he kept expecting the blond to appear, barging into his room in the morning with a cup of coffee to make sure he didn't miss his morning class. Sprawled on the sofa reading the novels he'd been assigned, nursing a cup of cocoa. Lurking in that row in the Conservatory that couldn't be seen properly because of the angle of the lights so that he could give Harry a semblance of privacy even as he eavesdropped.

Every corner he turned he expected to bump into Draco.

Only he didn't, and Harry hated that.

"Sure thing, Guppy."

"Don't call me that, I grew out of that when I was nine."

"No you didn't, you'll always be my little Guppy. Now get up or you'll miss breakfast and I'll make you eat with Severus." Harry mock-pouted and groaned for good-measure as Sirius pulled his blankets off and proceeded to throw some clothes on his bed. "Come on, Guppy, the faster you go, the faster we can get home. We need to decorate, I haven't been over there in a bit."

Harry stumbled out of bed and grabbed his shower kit. Closing his eyes as he walked to the bathroom because he was already tired of seeing an empty common room.

* * *

"Good morning, Draco."

Draco looked-up as he entered the dining room and was surprised to see his mother and his father sitting there. "Father," he greeted. "I thought that you would be at work."

"My meeting was postponed," Lucius drawled with disinterest. Draco took his seat and began to dish breakfast onto his plate. "You haven't told us much about your school. Your letters say that you enjoy it but beyond that it's unclear. How is your piano teacher ... What was his name?"

"Professor Snape. He is a talented musician," Draco replied, because that was the answer that was expected of him.

"And you schoolmates? Any problems?" Lucius did not look at his son while he asked this, he busied himself with his boiled egg and cracked it with a swift tap of his spoon.

"No, father. My section mates are really quite enjoyable, and very talented artists." He stifled a smile as he remembered the time they had all gotten drunk in their common room when he had first joined them. His father would likely not approve of any of his new friends. Blaise because of his brazen honesty, Neville for his poor marks and low self-esteem, Dean for his often disturbing art, Seamus for being a horrible flirt, Ron for his lack of exorbitant wealth and lack of decorum and Harry for his unseemly passion.

"Which brings me to the issue of the concert," Lucius said, putting down his spoon and turning to his son in a manner that alerted Draco that trouble was coming. "Who chose to play that piece?"

"Professor Pereskew. The professors always choose the pieces for concerts, as well as what we work on in class."

"I found it quite appalling that such a selection was played at Yule time. It was incredibly inappropriate, and I'm extremely disappointed in you." Draco was trying to stop himself from gaping, but his father continued. "If she does such a thing again, you are to make a point of avoiding the performance."

"Father, it's mandatory to play."

"Well then you should at least turn down a significant role. It made you look a fool, supporting her decision to play such a piece that so wholly does not fit the mood of the holidays."

"It fit mine," Draco whispered to himself, and looked up quickly, hoping no one heard him. His mother was looking at him oddly, but his father seemed to have himself distracted by the absurdity of Pereskew's selection.

"Regardless of the appropriateness of the piece, Draco, you played well," his mother commented with a small smile. Draco wasn't quite sure how to react to that, so he remained silent.

"'Cissa, please. At least he wasn't so horribly out-of-line as that violinist." Draco tensed, knowing exactly who his father spoke of.

"Darling," Narcissa cut-in. "Draco played well, and in the future he will heed your advice."

Lucius immediately stopped and quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, well. Remember that you are to practice three hours a day at the least, Draco. I won't have you falling behind because you are on vacation." Draco nodded and returned to his breakfast.

* * *

Black Manor House was really a beautiful place. It was covered in a fresh blanket of snow and looked open and welcoming to Harry. He stepped out of the car and helped his uncle wrestle the bags up the front steps and into the front hall. "You can go and unpack, I'll just pop out and do some grocery shopping. After, we'll go through our decorations and see what we need to pick-up." It was tradition that each year they added to their Christmas supplies. Each year the house got more festive.

"When will we set-up the lights?" Harry asked. They always twined a garland strung with lights around the porch at the front of the Manor, and hung a large wreath on the door encircling the lion's head knocker. Harry liked the way the house looked, so welcoming covered in snow, with the lights glowing warmly.

"We'll get to it, don't panic," Sirius assured. Harry nodded and dragged his bags up the stairs to his room. He didn't feel like unpacking. He missed Draco.

The memory of their kiss flashed through his mind and he took a deep breath. There had been something electric about it. It had made it easier to breathe and taken his breath away in one go. It had been different than his previous experiences with kissing, most of which had been awkward and a few of which had been stolen without his permission. This had been a surrendering of both himself and of Draco. It seemed almost as if there had been an entire dialogue between them without a word being spoken.

He smiled to himself and wondered how Draco was doing. What he was doing.

With another sigh, Harry turned to his bags and started to unpack.

* * *

"Lucius, will you sit with me and have some tea?" Narcissa asked as she noticed her husband passing the sitting room. Draco had gone into town shopping for his Christmas gifts along with Hermione and Narcissa was hoping to take advantage of some time alone with her husband. It had been far too long since they had spent any time together.

"I'm busy right now, 'Cissa," he said flippantly.

"I have something particular to discuss in regards to Draco," Narcissa urged. If he would not come for her sake perhaps he would come for the sake of their son.

"Is the boy making a nuisance of himself?" Lucius asked.

"Not at all," Narcissa said, wondering how the man could be so blind. "But I think there is something wrong and I was hoping that ..."

"Really, Narcissa, I haven't the time. He's a grown man, he can take care of himself," Lucius said, cutting her off. Before she could protest he had left the room. Narcissa sat for a moment, looking with shock at the place where her husband had stood. He had changed so much over the years. She was certain that she had loved him once, but now the only thing she knew for certain was that her main concern was her son. She had nearly lost hope as she watched Draco's fire burn out. Slowly she observed the same transformation her husband had gone through. She had tried to prevent it, at first, but a boy always idolizes his father, and soon she had believed that her attempts were useless.

If Lucius thought that she would sit by and let the cycle begin again, he was wrong. She had made too many sacrifices to give up now. She had seen already the effects Lucius had on her son and she would have none of it. A part of her wondered if perhaps she were making the right choice. The other part of her was firmly resolved. She had tried, by the heavens she had tried. Eighteen years of trying and she was tired.

Narcissa shifted in her seat, drawing her shoulders back and sipping at her tea.

* * *

Draco,

Is it stupid of me to say that writing 'dear' just sounded weird? I had the strangest mental-image when I first started this letter, I'm not sure if you would find it amusing or if you would be insulted. Referring to you as 'dear' made me think of an old married couple, and I pictured you as a seventy-eight year old woman. I'm really sorry. Can I redeem myself by telling you that I'm really sick and have a ridiculously high fever? I have to write this letter secretly because Sirius is going to kill me. He thinks I'm resting. The only reason why I'm alone is because he's gone to ring the doctor.

How are things? I've been trying to complete the English readings but I've fallen asleep every time, I'm not entirely convinced it's because of the sickness. I've never been a fan of Dickens. I hope that doesn't disturb you. If I were to say that to Dean I would be hung drawn and quartered. For him, not liking Dickens is almost sacrilegious. It's kind of funny, really.

Anyway, the room has just started spinning in an interesting way. I can add vertigo to my growing list of maladies. I really hope you're doing better. Have you done anything interesting? I've been up to the usual. We go over to the school a lot. Sirius has meetings and sets-up the classroom for upcoming projects. I usually end-up practising or harassing various professors (McGonagall is the most rewarding person to harass, did you know?) Or I explore the school. Not that I don't already know it thoroughly. There's always the vague hope that I've missed a secret passage or dark hallway. So far, no luck. As soon as I get better, Sirius is dragging me back to do decorating. We always have New Years at the school. I've heard Blaise might be able to escape his family to come. I hate that I won't see you at all until the start of term.

I suppose it's blatantly obvious that I really don't know what to write you. There's too much to say. And at the same time, the only thing that comes to mind is that I miss you and hate the fact that you're not here. Or I'm not there. Sometimes when I'm visiting the school, I catch myself looking for you. Sorry, I know you don't like sappy things like that but I had to tell you.

How fair's your father's systematic annihilation of the artist in you? Sorry. I tend to joke about things when I'm worried. I keep thinking about our last night. I'm really sorry about everything that happened. I didn't mean it.

I was reading Shakespeare and found a quote that made me think of you. I hope it will help you remember.

Here we will sit

And let the sound of music

Creep in our ears:

Soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Oh bugger. Sirius is coming. I'll try to write more but in case I forget, I miss you.

Harry Potter

* * *

"Do not complain about practice, Draco," Lucius scolded absently when his son sat back on the bench and wriggled his fingers.

Draco was absently wondering if the feeling would return to them. He'd been practising so long that there was only a faint pain. "I'm not complaining. I'm just resting my fingers for a moment, they're cramping," Draco corrected, and flexed his fingers again. He would stop soon, maybe go for a walk. It was a really lovely day out.

"Pablo Casals," Lucius, said: "For the past eighty years I have started each day in the same manner. It is not a mechanical routine but something essential to my daily life. I go to the piano and play two preludes and fugues of Bach's. I cannot think of doing otherwise." That is how deeply music sat with him."

"He played two preludes and two fugues. He did not start each day with a three and a half hour practice full of scales and exercises. And while we're discussing Casals, why don't you complete the quote?" Draco prompted.

"I don't know what you mean," Lucius said as he continued on his previous path through the living room where Draco was seated at the piano, towards the stairs.

"'It's a sort of benediction on the house. But that is not its only meaning for me. It is a rediscovery of the world of which I have the joy of being a part. It fills me with awareness of the wonder of life, with a feeling of the incredible marvel of being a human being.' The full quote." Lucius paused in his work, and Draco asked, "Why don't you play anymore?" Lucius said nothing, didn't even turn around. He walked calmly to the door and shut it firmly behind him as he exited the room.

Draco flexed his fingers and then stood from the piano. Carefully, he put away his music before heading out of the living room, pulling on his coat and shoes, and heading out for a long walk.

* * *

The noise in the Weasley house was quite atrocious. Ron was surprised his mother could even hear the phone, but hear it she did and she promptly scuttled into the kitchen to answer it. Ron loved Christmas, especially when his entire family was united. It was a secret that few knew because he was afraid they might think he was a bit daft. Ron had a very large family and most of his friends complained about their family situation. It seemed a natural conclusion that the more people involved in the family, the more chaotic and irritating that family became. Ron agreed that his family was completely chaotic. Each of his brother's personalities was incredibly distinct, and they often had intense and heated arguments that his mother usually resolved by suggesting they sort it out through a friendly game of cards or chess.

Ginny had to be Ron's favourite sibling because, regardless of his brotherly instincts to protect her zealously, they agreed on many points, and the two of them, when united in an argument, often were able to win many arguments, if not for their reasoning, then for their skill, Ginny at cards, and Ron at chess.

Ron was also quite fond of his parents. He had heard Blaise complain about his frantic mother and knew that Draco's father was quite controlling, and it was true that Mrs. Weasley was very protective of each and every one of her brood, but there was a sort of respect and understanding that ran through her in regards to her and her children as well as her husband. Though he often gave them strict curfews and vetoed their ideas on fun, and she often scolded them quite loudly, there was always the sense that this was done purely out of her motherly instincts of love and protection. Ron never once resented her for it, though he was more than terrified of his mother when she was angry.

In complete contrast, Mr. Weasley was an encouraging and easy-going man. When Ron had first taken-up the cello, the twins, Fred and George, had teased him mercilessly. This was because thus far, each of them had followed what the twins considered 'manly' pursuits. Bill was a banker, Charlie was an archaeologist, Percy worked in the government and the twins owned their own store. Mr. Weasley himself worked in government as well. It seemed to amuse his brothers that he preferred music to politics or money. Mr. Weasley, however, had simply opened a separate account and saved money and, on his tenth birthday, gifted his youngest son with a cello of his own.

Even in their interactions together, Ron loved that his parents seemed to not only completely compatible, but also completely understanding. The only person who was completely aware of Ron's feelings towards his family was Harry and that was because they had practically grown-up together. There was no one he trusted more. Harry might as well have been a part of the Weasley clan.

"Ron, the phone is for you," Mrs. Weasley called. Ron quickly excused himself from the conversation and hurried into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley smiled at him and winked. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend," she scolded with a smile. "She sounds lovely, dear. You must invite her over some time." She handed him the phone and Ron, blushing a deep red, accepted it.

"'Mione?" he asked, just to be certain.

"Ron! Hi. Am I interrupting you? I didn't know when the best time to call was."

"No! I mean," Ron cleared his throat, trying to sound less eager. "Not at all. I was meaning to call it's just hard when my brother's keep distracting me." He heard Hermione giggle and he grinned. "How about you? How has your break been going?"

"It's been lovely. Quiet, but still ... I don't have many siblings. Actually, I'm an only child."

"I wish I could tell you I knew what that felt like," Ron said just as the twins began to yell exuberantly and he could hear his mother fussing.

"It certainly sounds as if you're having quite the time over there."

"You've no idea. My father suggested a friendly game of Balderdash, but things, as usual, have turned ugly. It's all in good fun. ... Hermione ..." Ron ventured after a moment. "Uhm ... would you ... would you want to come and visit? Or maybe, I could come there and visit? Just for a bit?"

"Yes! That would be wonderful! I have to talk with my mum and dad. Oh! Then I can give you your Christmas present!" Ron grinned stupidly until he realized that Hermione couldn't see him. "Ron? Ron, are you still there?"

"His," Ron replied. "Yes. I'm here. I'm grinning stupidly."

* * *

Draco,

That was an interesting solution to the 'dear', but for originality's sake, I'll have to find another term of affection that I can use for you. I'm sorry, again for that mental-image. I'll make it up to you, I swear, with a number of small, meaningless, and often annoying actions.

I think I should start out by saying that in my last letter I didn't - I did - I meant - when I said that I was sorry for our last night, I did not mean the kiss. I could never be sorry for that. I was thinking about that argument which really should never have escalated to such. I'm sorry that my lack of clarity upset you, like I said, I was sick and barely knew what I was writing about. That sounds like I'm shirking responsibility. Er. Well, sorry and I'll make it up to you. Maybe with another kiss?

I'm really sort of wondering how best to write letters to you. A part of me wants to be incredibly silly and drown you in romantic metaphors and frilly language but at the same time that's just a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, I feel conflicted. I've never written love letters before. Oh shit. I've buggered it all up, haven't I? I'm just not as eloquent as you are.

I really loved your letter, I haven't stopped smiling since, which, unfortunately, makes me look a bit of a dunderhead because I'm often wandering around with an unexplained grin. Sirius has given-up trying to understand it. Either that, or he's realized the presence of the grin usually coincides with the arrival of the post. It's not the biggest mystery, is it?

I have no idea what to tell you about your father. All I can think of to say is talk to him, but you've said you've tried that and it obviously didn't work. So, my next bit of advice is, go by instinct. It's my treasured secret and I'll thank you to treat it well... It really is an atrocious Christmas we're heading for, isn't it? All I can think of is how much better it would all be if you were simply with me. Is it ridiculous of me to tell you that I miss your taste? I suppose that just sounds weird.

It feels like forever and a day since we last saw each other and it may be ridiculous, but I'm wishing for the start of term more than anything. I don't even feel the need to blame it on illness (which is not as bad as before), I think it only makes sense that I should be missing you horribly (which I am). I haven't been able to sleep too well, (I blame you entirely as I'm awake thinking about you).

I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow (1)

Harry (2)

* * *

"Do you ever think about it?" Harry asked, and Sirius stopped fiddling with the annoying little light bulbs for the Christmas tree and looked seriously at his nephew.

"About what?" He had known his nephew long enough to know when the boy was troubled.

Harry snapped out one of the bulbs and replaced it with another, pausing to see if the chain lit-up. There was something deeply frustrating and yet, oddly satisfying about the task. One single bulb on the long chain of lights was out, thus, not a single bulb could function. The task was to find the culprit, and exchange the dead bulb for a new one. They had been at it since lunch and had already fixed two chains. It was nearing dinner.

"About before? About how it was when we were all together?"

Sirius didn't need to ask who Harry was referring to. "Yes, I do," he replied, watching carefully for Harry's reaction. There was none, he just shimmied forward and tried to next bulb.

"I feel guilty sometimes. I mean, Christmas is supposed to be happy, right? And I am. And I love spending vacations with you, but at the same time ... I just ... I miss them, you know?"

Christmas was always a difficult time for Harry. Or at least, ever since the death of his parents and his brother. He knew that he was incredibly thankful for his uncle and also for the way some of the faculty at his school had taken him in as one of their own. But still there was that hollow feeling in him that grew as the holidays progressed and he had increasingly more time to remember how it was before.

This year it was made increasingly worse because of Draco.

It was a guilty wish he harboured, for his boyfriend to be with him. He knew that there was concern in him, despite everything he really did know music, and whether Draco confided or not, Harry knew without a doubt that there was something going on with Draco and his family, likely his father, that affected his boyfriend quite deeply. But as the days passed, Harry lost sight of his concern and focussed on the fact that really there was only one thing he wanted for Christmas, and that was Draco himself.

Sirius watched as Harry refused to look up, choosing to focus on his task. "I understand. You don't need to worry, of course you think about them at this time of year. After all, it's the season to be with family, you can't help but think about it. And you needn't think that I'll be angry if you need some time to yourself."

"That's the last thing I want," Harry said. "And it's not just my mum and dad and my brother. I just ... I hate how life is so bloody complicated!" Harry said. He snapped the tester bulb into place and suddenly the stand lit up.

"Success," Sirius said, and Harry half-smiled. Together they picked up the strand and wrapped it around the tree, it was the last string to go up, now all that was left were the decorations. Hefting a box into his arms, Sirius took a serious look at his nephew. The boy had gone through a great deal, especially in the passed two years. He hated the way Harry had closed off and shamelessly basked in any attempt the boy made to talk with him. "Life has got to be complicated, Guppy," Sirius said, as he plunked the box of decorations closer to the tree, smiling as Harry did the same with his box. "Otherwise you'd lose interest." Harry rolled his eyes and Sirius, with a chuckle, ruffled his hair.

* * *

"You have a letter, Draco," Narcissa said casually as she flipped through the letters that she had just picked-up. Draco walked over and she held it out to him, watching closely as he glanced at it. She noticed a very faint smile threatened to cross his face, but he quickly covered it and tucked the letter in his pocket.

"Thank-you, mother," he said calmly and turned to go. "I'm going for a walk." She nodded, though he couldn't see her as he left. She smiled to herself.

Letters had been coming to the house almost everyday, and she had seen Draco leaving with a letter of his own just as often. It surprised her that Draco could lead a double life. He played the obedient son so well that there were times she doubted what she had seen in the hallway of the school, but every morning a letter would arrive, and every afternoon Draco would depart on a walk, and relief would always fill her. It was the only time she was certain of anything.

* * *

"Sirius! It's Christmas! Wake up!" Harry shouted, smacking his uncle over the head with a pillow before grinning like a madman and rushing downstairs as soon as he noticed the dark glare.

"You little hellion!" Sirius cried as he launched himself from his bed, following the sounds of his nephew's cackles until he reached the living room. It was the perfect Christmas day. A fresh blanket of snow, early enough that the world was still dark and the living room was completely relying on the small coloured lights on the happily cluttered Christmas tree.

It was a nice image. The bright tree, presents packed beneath it, and Harry, sitting cross-legged, a ridiculous grin on his face. He looked so much like his father in that moment, and Sirius felt a momentary pang of grief. He knew that inside both he and his nephew were shying away from the dark thoughts. It was getting easier, both of them had already confided in each other and Sirius was surprised at how mature Harry was. Outwardly he was exactly like James, except for the green eyes and the softer features. And yet, the quiet sophistication was certainly Lily's. Harry was the perfect combination of his parents and every moment they spent together was a painful reminder of what they both lost.

"Go ahead," Sirius said with a grin, ruffling the already messy dark hair. Harry wrinkled his nose but snatched a small parcel wrapped in green paper, and then he carefully selected another gift, handing it to Sirius with a grin.

"Ready when you are," Harry said, and, with an impatient shout they tore away at the paper.

* * *

Draco,

There's something extremely pitiful in the fact that I am at a loss of what to say to you. The truth is, I never run-out of things to tell you. There's never a moment when I'm not thinking of you and wondering what you are doing, or thinking about how you would react to something. When I'm with you I never feel like this but suddenly I'm acutely aware of everything that I say and I wonder if perhaps, as soon as I put the words down on paper, they'll take on a new meaning.

I keep getting your letters and they're unbelievable and it may be foolish, but I feel completely light and alive whenever I read them. But when it comes to writing back I wonder what it is I should say and I hate that I end up biting my tongue. I was playing our song yesterday and I was thinking that this problem exists because I really don't know how to trust anyone anymore. When I'm with you, it's so easy because you're there and ... well, you're just incredible, but now, when all I have is a piece of paper, I can't convince myself that whatever it is I'm thinking, whatever I'm feeling, means anything. I guess that's why your letters are just an immense relief, because you prove that my neurotic fears are as ridiculous as I know they are.

You asked me what I wanted and I've been trying to think of an answer ever since. It's amazingly difficult to think about and I'm fairly certain I'll have an exquisite migraine later. I try to tell myself to take it slow. I know what you said about being hurt and about it being only natural that things should feel a bit overwhelming. But sometimes I wonder if that isn't all just some sad excuse.

What do I want? Everything. I'll settle for nothing less. But I think I've realized just how much certain things have fucked with my head and I'm fairly certain that 'everything' would break me almost as easily as 'nothing'. In truth, I really don't know what I want, but I feel it every time I'm with you.

Would it be alright to tell you I miss you? That the distance is stifling? I keep running over our last moments together but it feels like all I'm doing is shamelessly grasping at the unattainable.

It's been getting harder, even though I thought it would be the opposite, that the more time apart, the more I'd get used to it. It's a bit ridiculous. I've managed to live seventeen years but suddenly three weeks without you is impossible. I have to break down the moments. Just this breath then the next. One moment, then another. But you're my oxygen and even breathing seems difficult without you.

This letter was unbelievably difficult to write but I think I had to say it.

I miss you like hell.

With all my heart, it's yours anyway,

Harry

PS. Happy Christmas

* * *

TBC

---------------

Hello! Please don't flame me for this chapter. I know it's slow, corny and not much happens but it's necessary. This chapter was really hard for me to write, hence the long delay. (thus, any comments on the sap/fluff, please keep to yourself. I know all about it, but it had to be done.) The next chapter shouldn't be too long in coming as I have been writing it even as I avoided this chapter. I hope it's not too atrocious. I really tried.

Can I just say that I have the BEST scene planned. I am so excited to write it!! It's been driving me crazy! Every time I've written a Draco/Harry scene for this fic I've been thinking about it and it's coming up!! It's only ... two chapters away (I think)!!! I can't wait!!! does a dance of anticipation blinks as it begins to rain Wrong bloody dance!!! grumbles raises umbrella

IMPORTANT: I know it's a bit soon (Since there are still a lot of chapters to go) but I was wondering if anyone might be interested in a sequel, set once everyone is out of school. If you are, either include a mention of it in your review, or email me at goldsnitcheryahoo.com because I've got a few ideas for it already. This was also a way I could satisfy a couple requests I had about various things. let me know if I should write it.

And I have to give a BIG thank-you to Sailor Grape (again!) Because of the review I got for chapter six I (after screaming with excitement when I saw the length of your review. And after recovering from my mad blush-fest) started immediately in on this chapter even though it was 12:30 a.m. and I had been without sleep for nearly two nights. So, yes, I feel incredibly guilty for the long delay, but that review shot me to the moon and I've been stationed there (along with my computer) working on this chapter. Let's hope it's okay.

This chapter is dedicated to Dragenphly, for persistent reviews that never failed to spur me into working harder! You rock!

AND

Fallen Angel. Thanks bunches for the review, and the attempt at length (not too bad!) And for the compliment on my writing style (comparing me to published authors! blushes crimson) it feels great 'cause I try to make the fic a bit more interesting and it's good to know it's appreciated. And also, thanks for visiting my liveJournal, they're fun, I recommend them!

* * *

TEASER:

The Malfoy Rebellion

Midnight Kiss

Facing Reality

* * *

1. William Sommerset Maugham

2. Okay. The letters are not all the letters that Harry writes over the break. The first two are consecutive, but the next one, I imagine, comes after some more correspondence. Just like you don't ever hear from Draco, you don't hear everything that Harry writes. It's really hard to write believably like a guy and I'm sorry if I failed. The last one, in particular, is a bit sappy. Couldn't help it. Sorry.


	8. For Luck

* * *

Life as Experienced Through Your Fingers

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Eight: For Luck

* * *

He sits at the piano and, fingers flexing tentatively, delicately rests the pads of his fingertips against the cool keys. 

He remembers how he used to play as a child, his tiny hands being lifted at the wrist, encircled in his mother's firm grip, her fingers pressing down over his own as he tapped the keys. That was how he learned. His first piano lesson. He had never been formally taught. 

Slowly his fingers begin to move, a lump in his throat rising. 

He misses the sounds, the warmth of her laughter, the way she guided his fingers over the keys. He hates the fact that the keys are cold. The didn't used to be. Draco would always play. He would sit right here at this piano and his fingers would move effortlessly across the instrument. Then the piano was always warm, even if the blond was not. 

Harry hated the cold.

Tentatively at first, as if remembering a long forgotten talent, he begins the opening lines of his favourite Chopin piece, Raindrops. He imagines that it is raining outside. That he is that little boy again learning his first instrument. That he is sitting with Draco and listening to him play.

There is something soothing in the rainfall, note after note drifting by. He feels something building in him and realizes with a start that there are tears running down his cheeks. He's remembering, but he wishes he were not. Vaguely he feels hands running down his back, the harsh grip around his neck and he is doubly choked, once by emotion, and also by the memory. He knows that it is not real and plays all the more fervently to remind himself.

The feeling shifts.

The way Draco looked on the first day, when Harry had just realized that he was there. When he offered his slim pale hand, piano hands, and Harry was momentarily too stunned to recall what he was supposed to do.

The screech of tires. The cold caress of pavement. The heat of fire and his visioned blurred by blood.

A kiss.

Heated and mind-numbing and perfect perfect perfect. 

Cinnamon and strawberries and the soft taste of Draco. The softness of the embrace sending him spinning into a different world. He didn't know anything like a kiss could feel so sweet. He didn't want it to end. He never wanted it to end.

He didn't know why he was crying, silent tears falling persistently. It seemed a bit ridiculous to him but he let it go. 

Music was all about letting go. 

He wanted to let Draco see everything that music could be. All the heart-wrenching, mind-numbing, passion filled agonizing chords and merry trills and aching crescendoes.

He gently brought the piece to a close and stared at his fingers, wondering how he could remember that piece after so many years.

"It's been so long since I've heard you play the piano."

He turns and tries to smile at his uncle, but he has forgotten about the tears and, self-consciously, wipes them away. "It's not my instrument. I always felt a bit awkward around it," he explains. It isn't the truth. When his mother would play there wasn't an instrument he loved more. When she had taught him, he had savoured every moment. But soon he had realized that it just wasn't him. There were restrictions in every instrument, the harp could never sounds brazen and the drums could never hum a lullaby, but that didn't make either of them any less beautiful in their own right. He had realized quite early that the piano could did not speak for him the same way his violin did. He had learned quite well how to coax the subtleties of the keys into expressing simple truths, but it never spoke to his wild nature.

With his violin, he had completion. As refined as it was he could make it sing as if it were on fire. When he was furious or engulfed in the piece, he could skip his fingers across the fingerboard and let his bow run wild, snapping hairs from it and playing furiously until the strings felt hot beneath his fingers, and the heat stayed long after the piece was finished. Reassuring, in a way. As if his emotions had seeped into the instrument and filled it. 

And that was alright. 

He needed that.

Sirius comes and sits beside him on the bench. "Your mother always loved the piano," Sirius says quietly, touching a key reverently, but not pressing it. Harry's mother was a pure pianist, just like Draco. Just as passionate as Harry and yet more refined. Where he needed to be let loose, where he needed, at times, to unleash his raw emotion and have proof that it existed in the splintered hairs, or the hot strings, Draco simply knew. There was a calmness in his passion, refinement in him, even as he scorched the keys.

"I remember," he whispers, because he does. 

* * *

"Mother? Why did you marry father?" Draco asked, feeling suddenly like a young child. He thought perhaps he needed a large teddy bear clutched to his chest to complete the image. 

Narcissa smiled softly, if sadly, and patted the seat beside her. Draco took it hesitantly. He had always thought his mother was rather cool and aloof, but lately he had been seeing a different part of her. "Things were different in the beginning, Draco," she said, simply, brushing a stray strand of his blond hair out of his face. "Your father used to be a completely different person. But your grandfather started pressuring him to be a proper Malfoy, whatever that means. He became more and more focussed on his work and before I knew what was happening, I barely saw him anymore." She seemed saddened, but there was something else that shone in her eyes that confused Draco. He didn't think he should ask about it. "Malfoys have a fine tradition of suffocating the spirit in their heirs," she said, after a moment.

"Do you still love him?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly. 

Narcissa looked closely at her son, examining him, her calm eyes reading deep into him. With a frown, she looked away. "I don't think I've ever stopped," she said after a moment. "But sometimes, it isn't about love."

* * *

"I'll carry it up," Harry said, quickly snatching the other box from his uncle's arms. The table had already been fixed and now they were bringing up the coffee maker and kettle that had broken. 

"Fine, fine. So possessive," Sirius said, waving his arms in a shooing motion.

"Sirius, I just don't think you'd want to be replacing two coffee makers and kettles and such in one holiday. It's not bloody Noah's Ark." Sirius feigned hurt and Harry rolled his eyes, adjusting the boxes in his arms and turning towards the stairs. 

It was always strange to be at the school, particularly the residence rooms, during vacations. And yet, as odd as it felt, there was still the overpowering sense that it was home for him.

Fumbling with the keys, he kicked the door open and shuffled over to the table, depositing the boxes before closing the door and flicking on the lights. There was a window open and Harry frowned darkly. He'd been up with Sirius the day before to fix the table and the window had been closed. No one else came in here.

Still frowning, he stepped over and slammed it shut, shivering with a vague thought of a nightmare that may have returned to him, but he pushed it away. He didn't think he would ever feel safe anywhere anymore. "Harry?"

Startled, Harry spun around and then, recognition falling on him, he gasped for breath and grinned. "Blaise you utter arse! You gave be a heart attack! What are you doing here?" Not realizing what he was doing he stepped forward and hugged Blaise. He didn't notice the surprised look that melted into a soft smile as Blaise returned the hug. Harry was too caught up in relief that it was Blaise and not some strong-willed belligerent. Quickly, he cut off those thoughts.

"It's good to see you, too," Blaise said with a smirking smile that made Harry blush as he realized that he had hugged his friend. There was a moment when he felt nervous and embarrassed and then he brushed it off. It was just Blaise, after all. And it could have been anyone, really, sneaking in to the room, so Harry had been relieved.

"But what are you doing back?" Harry asked as they settled onto the armchairs.

"My parents settled their divorce over the break. They wouldn't even give me Christmas, they spent the entire time with their lawyers fighting over who got me for Christmas day. I got sick of it and finally insisted that I come back early. I mean, I would be here in three days anyway, for the party." Harry cast a sympathetic look at his friend. Blaise hadn't told anyone, just Harry and Neville because they were in a position to understand and also because they were close.

"I'm really sorry, Blaise. It must have been really hard."

Blaise shrugged and sighed. "I knew they were going to do it, I just hoped that they wouldn't. Anyway, enough about my barmy old parents. How is your love life?"

With one more concerned look Harry allowed himself to be side-tracked, understanding Blaise's need to forget as much as he understood his need to talk about it all at times. "Draco's wonderful. We've been writing. He can't come to the party and besides the fact that his father's a complete git I think I can say we've been doing well."

Blaise grinned. "I have news," he said with a mischievous grin after a moment.

Because he knew Blaise, Harry grinned back, the same devilish glint in his green eyes. "News?" he asked with a bit of a drawl.

"I told you about Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes," Harry said, his grin a bit wider.

"Well, we've been keeping in touch. I ran into her at the mall when I was escaping a particularly nasty row. After that, well, I spent most of the time with her. She's really something, Harry. I've convinced her to join the improv group. You have to meet her."

"You're together now?" Harry asked with a happy smile. Blaise deserved someone and if his friend was happy then he couldn't wait to meet Pansy.

"Yeah, well ... I haven't made it _official_ official," he amended sheepishly.

"Blaise, you've got to. Otherwise she might just think you're a friend and that it's."

"Trust me, Harry, we're more than friends," Blaise insinuated with a mischievous smirk returning.

"Have you ... you haven't," Harry said, slowly turning red.

"Of course not!" Blaise said, he knew when to draw the line with Harry. The hug had been a wonderful surprise but the dark haired boy just refused to joke about some things. "I wouldn't do that until it was definitely official." He paused and watched Harry shift in his seat. There was something adorable in his friend's innocence, probably because Harry managed a complete innocence despite obvious passion. It was a strange balance and Blaise was fairly certain few people could pull it off like Harry did, but that was just one of those things. That was just Harry. 

"When's Ron coming back?" Blaise asked, when the blush had tempered itself.

"He's not. Hermione invited him up to her place for New Year's and ... well, there was no way he would turn that down."

"Small group this year," Blaise said to himself. Neville never came back for New Year's since his grandmother was quite clingy. Seamus was visiting family in Ireland. That left Blaise, Harry and Dean.

"You should come back to the Manor for a bit," Harry suggested with a small smile. 

Blaise grinned. "See, Harry? I knew there was a use for you yet."

* * *

Draco sat at the piano in the living room and practised. He had been practising for over an hour already but he was afraid to stop. His father had come in twenty minutes before and was reviewing files on the small table. 

"Keep practising, Draco," Lucius said without looking up from his papers. Draco quickly turned to a new piece and began to play. He felt stupid, like a performing monkey. If his father had commented on his playing, or asked him if he minded playing while he worked or something, anything else, Draco might not have felt so awkward, but Lucius Malfoy had simply commanded his son to practice. 

Draco smiled wistfully as he realized he had unconsciously turned to play Clair de Lune and remembered how Harry had looked at him that night when they had talked about their likes and dislikes.

Harry.

How the boy would perch on a piano bench and listen for a moment before pointing-out something that Draco was having trouble with or commenting on his playing. 

How he tasted.

"Play something else. That piece is far too sentimental." Draco stopped and stared down at his fingers. Yes, perhaps it was sentimental. Perhaps there was something about the honest flush of emotion that spilled out of him whenever he thought of Harry and that somehow managed to splash the keys with warm sounds. That was part of the reason why Draco loved the Romantics, they didn't shield themselves in pomp and circumstance, they spoke to something deeper that somehow always made him think of chocolate and flooded his senses with a pure, deep emerald green that was so intense in its healing that he felt dazed.

"Play a Bach," Lucius ordered, and Draco fumbled for the music. 

He started to play but didn't make it half-way through before he sat back and glared at the music. "I'm not doing this anymore."

"What was that?" Lucius' voice was edged with danger, as if he were offering his son a chance to take it back.

"I said I'm not doing this anymore," Draco announced more clearly.

"And what might that be?"

"This!" Draco said, as he rose from his bench. "Sitting here, clacking away at the keys like - like some performing monkey."

"You will not speak to me like that in my own home," Lucius snarled.

"And you won't screw around with me anymore! I don't understand you, father. I really don't. I've tried. Lord knows I've tried. Seventeen years of bloody trying, almost eighteen, and still! You used to play. I remember. I saw you. But it was like a guilty secret. Well, music isn't my guilty secret, it's my passion! And I'm sick of trying to hold it back and keep it 'decent' in order to make you proud because no matter what I do, father, it's never enough! And it's never going to be!"

"You will stop this nonsense this instant!" Lucius roared, rising from his seat and crossing the room in a flourish. "I will not tolerate this behaviour from you, Draco. I taught you better than this! It is completely uncalled for!"

"Uncalled for? Uncalled for! This is what's been building-up for seventeen bloody years! This is what you made me! This is what you brought me to! This is _exactly_ what is called for and I'm sorry to say that it's taken me this long to realize it!" 

*smack*

Draco blinked, momentarily stunned.

His father had smacked him hard across the face. And now the man was glaring at him in fury.

"That," Draco said calmly when he had recovered from the shock. "Is why I don't have a father." 

Lucius was about to say something when a calm voice interrupted him. "Draco, go to the kitchen and tell Shannon to get some ice for you cheek." Draco turned, stunned, to see his mother standing in the doorway. She looked completely controlled, her face expressionless, everything about her showing the refined, delicate and proper woman she was. He nodded dumbly and headed towards the kitchen, noticing that his mother slid the door to the living room shut after he had left.

When he reached the kitchen he tumbled gracelessly into a seat and, while Shannon went to fetch the ice, he tried to process what had happened.

He had yelled at his father.

He.

Had yelled.

At his father.

A chuckle escaped his throat which turned into a laugh. It had felt bloody brilliant. He felt a surge of power running through him, a result of the adrenaline coursing in his veins. He tried to ignore his watering eyes.

His head was spinning, his cheek was burning, and he was probably going to be brutally torn apart by his father in a few minutes but, for this one moment, he felt stronger and lighter and bolder than ever. It felt fucking fabulous.

He sat there, stunned, holding the ice to his cheek and running over the argument. Oh yes, he was in deep deep trouble, but he felt incredibly satisfied.

"Draco, go to your room and pack your things," Narcissa ordered calmly from the kitchen doorway where she had just appeared. 

"Yes, mother," he answered, and rose swiftly, still clutching the ice to his cheek. 

As he went to pass her she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "How is your cheek?" she asked and, in answer, he removed the ice and tilted his bruising cheek at her. He felt her fingers gently curl around his chin so that she could inspect it. "Keep the ice on it for a while. It will be bruised for a few days but it should be fine." He nodded and continued on his way upstairs. As he passed the living room he saw his father sitting at the table, calmly continuing with his paperwork.

Draco said nothing and continued on his way up the stairs to his room.

* * *

"Do you ever feel lonely, Siri?" Harry asked as they sat in the art room. Blaise had been roped into going over the costumes for the play because they had not been put away properly. Since Harry was only responsible for lighting he had be shooed away. 

"How could I feel lonely?" Sirius replied, with a little grin. "I've got you, Guppy." He ruffled Harry's hair, and Harry snarled, frantically attempting to smooth it down before he frowned again.

"No, I mean. Of course you have me but ... don't you ever want ... someone else?"

Sirius frowned at his nephew and then he smiled. "Harry, before you met Draco, did you ever feel lonely?"

Harry bit his lip. "No ... well, not really. But there was always this sense that something was missing."

Sirius smiled faintly. "But you never felt alone or unwanted?"

"Not really," Harry replied. He bit his lips a few more times and then glanced up at his uncle. "So you're saying, you do, but not really? That because of me and your friends, you can wait a little more?" 

Sirius nodded and then flung an arm around Harry's shoulders. He started to sing, "There's always tomorrow, for dreams to come true ..."

"SIRIUS!" Harry cried, as Sirius continued to sing the song from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. "Christmas is over!"

"Not until epiphany! I still have plenty of time to sing songs from holiday classics!"

"For crying out loud. Next you'll be serenading me with We're a Couple of Misfits!" he muttered. A look crossed his uncle's face. "Oh no," Harry said. "Oh, please no," Harry tried again as Sirius advanced on him. "Sirius? Sirius I said no. I won't do it," he tried. "Sirius, I'm not an eight year old anymore." The arm was thrown over his shoulder again.

"We're a couple of misfits..." Sirius began as Harry still protested. Sirius continued on and sang his part as Kerby the elf who wanted to be a dentist. With a long-suffering sigh Harry took a deep breath and joined in.

"Why am I such a misfit? I am not just a nitwit ..." Harry sang, sulking much in the way Rudolph did in the movie. When they finished, Harry felt surprisingly happy, and he rolled his eyes as Sirius began setting up things in the art room, singing We Are Santa's Elves as he went. With a grin, Harry started helping his uncle, singing along as they worked.

* * *

"Draco?" Narcissa called softly. Draco looked up from where he was unpacking his bag. They had spent the night in the hotel and Draco still wasn't sure of what he was feeling. He was angry that he didn't know what was going on, but also he felt as if he were betraying his father. Despite the fact that the man was oppressive, he still had done many things with Draco and even if Draco had denied it earlier, Lucius was his father. And yet, conflicting with all of that was a sense of gratitude and respect and love for his mother. Draco was incredibly confused. "Draco? Come here, I think we should talk." 

Taking a deep breath, Draco closed the closet and followed his mother's voice into the living room of the large suite. "Yes, mother?" he asked, trying tp remain calm. He desperately wanted to know what was happening, and yet, at the same time, he was fairly certain he had it all figured out and didn't know what to think about it.

Narcissa motioned towards the sofa and watched as her son took a seat there. He looked nervous and she tried to smile warmly at him. "Draco, I'm sure you want to know what's happening, and I don't know the best way to explain it to you. You deserve to know and make your own decisions, you've grown-up so much. Such a mature young man," she said, smiling a little more authentically. "I'm going to be completely honest with you. Your father and I are getting a divorce." She paused to let this settle. Draco did not look in the least surprised. 

"Why?" Draco asked, Narcissa thought she the voice sounded constricted but she wasn't sure.

"Your father has changed a great deal, Draco. He's not the man I married. I've been thinking about it for a while but was never certain. I wanted what was best for you, and you seemed to dote on him so. But now, I think it's best. His behaviour has been restricting you as much as it has been me. I am, of course, requesting custody, but if you still wish to live with him, that is fine."

Draco didn't seem to hear her. "Do you love him?" he asked, he sounded almost desperate.

"Yes, Draco. I do love him. But sometimes it isn't about love. This is what is best, for everyone. Your father and I agreed on this point."

"I want to stay with you." 

She smiled and rose from her seat. "I'm glad to hear that, Draco," she whispered and bent down to kiss his cheek gently before walking into the bedroom and closing the door. Suddenly she felt as if she might cry.

* * *

Ron shuffled his feet nervously and smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Granger," he said, after a moment. Did his voice sound a little higher than usual? He hoped not. "Hello, Mr. Granger." His offered hand was taken in a firm grip and wrenched up and down a few times. "Hey, Hermione," he said, a smile lighting his face for the first time. 

She smiled broadly at him, smoothing her blue dress down. "Hey, Ron. Can I show him to his room, Mum?" she asked.

Mrs. Granger smiled softly at her daughter. "Yes, honey, but don't take too long. Dinner's almost ready. Have you eater, Mr. Weasley?"

"Please, call me Ron. And no. I took a plane here," he said, and then wiped the grin off his face because really, that wasn't much of an achievement. "So," he hastily tacked on. "I didn't get a chance to eat." Mrs. Granger smiled at him and Hermione shook her head, gesturing for him to follow her. 

They climbed the stairs and Hermione gave him a mini tour. "This is so exciting! This is the first time I've had New Years with any else besides my parents. I mean, well, once Draco's parents invited us to a party, but I got really sick and ended up not celebrating at all. I'm so happy your parents let you come," she babbled.

"I was surprised," Ron said, with just as much enthusiasm. "It's Weasley tradition to always be together on New Years. With this whole reunion thing at home, I thought I'd be stuck there. It's a relief, really," Ron added as an after-thought. "Last time Fred and George spiked my orange juice with Vodka and I had a hell of a hangover. This will b a surprisingly safe and refreshing way to ring in the new year."

"Did you bring your cello?" Hermione asked, as she pushed open the door to the guest room.

"No, it was too much to cart around for a few days and besides, I need a break. Practising is all well and good, but sometimes not practising is just as effective." She rolled her eyes at his logic, and he grinned. "Besides," he added. "It's your turn, isn't it? You said you would play for me."

"That's right, I did, didn't I? Alright, let me get my flute." She hurried out of the room and returned moments later with her case. Hastily she assembled it and then sighed. "I'm going to take a major risk and play something that I wrote myself," she said, and he grinned. Wiggling her fingers a few times and licking her lips, Hermione prepared to play.

The song was a very soft piece that seemed both soothing and eery at the same time. Ron decided he really liked the unique sound of the flute, and especially the way Hermione played it. She frowned as she played and her fingers moved precisely on her instrument. It was clear she was concentrating, but each note was hit perfectly and the song made him shivered. 

When she was finished she lowered the flute to her lap and raised an eyebrow at him, her expression nervous but questioning. "I thought it was bloody brilliant," Ron said, and meant it.

"Thank-you. I personally find the song-writing more interesting than the playing. Making music, it involves so much, figuring out the intervals and appropriate chords. It's a bit like mathematics, sometimes. But playing always clears my head."

"You played it very very well," Ron said, blushing a little, wondering if he didn't sound just a bit like a dunderhead.

Hermione grinned. "Well," she said, flippantly. "I had good inspiration," she said. Ron was about to ask her to elaborate before he remembered the day that he said that to her, just after the concert. He wondered if perhaps he was as red as he felt. He really hated how prone he was to fits of blushing.

* * *

It was two days before New Years and Draco was sitting, stunned in the living room, once again speaking to his mother. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she whispered. She truly looked sorry but he didn't think he could accept it. 

"Are you - are you certain?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"I need to work, Draco. Until this is finalized I need a source of income and ... And I can't ..." she trailed off and he tried to remember how to breathe.

"So, it is certain," he answered.

"Yes, Draco. You'll return for a few weeks. A month at most, but when tuition is due again at the end of the month -- I'm sorry."

"It's - it's ... I'm sorry, mother. I just ..." he wanted to laugh at the cruel irony of it all. Just when it seemed he would be given the world. When his father's restricting presence had finally been removed, when he was going to a school he loved, when he had found someone who he truly felt he could possibly spend the rest of his life with ... it all came crumbling down. He couldn't return to his school because his mother could not afford it. She had to be thinking about the future now. "Mother, I have a favour to ask ..."

* * *

Harry jogged up the stairs to his residence room, fumbling with his keys as he went. Blaise and Sirius were decorating, along with the rest of the faculty for the New Year's party that night. Blaise was moving back into his res room because Dean was returning for the party. Harry had been sent to open the windows and prepare the rooms again. 

Stumbling through the door Harry struggled to remove his key from the lock. He wanted to return to the decorating party. It was easier to keep his mind off Draco if he was with people. He had learned to appreciate distraction. As he freed his keys Harry became aware of the heady first strains of Claire de Lune echoing in the dark common room. He felt oddly giddy and clamped down on the hope that lurched within him. 

Hesitantly he stepped further into the room, noticing the small black radio that was the source of the music. And then his eyes fell on the figure. He was sitting on the window ledge, clothes in blue jeans and a white jumper and he was giving a sort of half smile. Harry felt breathless and dizzy and couldn't keep the shocked and dazed expression from crossing his face. "You said you wouldn't be able to make it," he breathed, by way of greeting. 

The half-smiling spread into a real smile, and Draco slid off the window sill, approaching him slowly. "I know," Draco said, just as softly.

"I didn't know you were here," Harry tried to explain, still feeling dazed.

"I know," Draco answered again, stopping right in front of Harry. Now that he was back, looking into emerald eyes and hearing Harry and just _being_ with Harry, nothing else seemed to matter. 

"I missed you," Harry said, after a moment.

Draco's smile grew. "I know." He paused, both of them simply staring at each other. Draco licked his lips, wondering if, perhaps he were pushing too far with his next request but somehow not caring. "I'm going to kiss you," Draco whispered, by way of warning.

Harry suddenly grinned. "I know," he answered and Draco grinned back before he leaned forward and captured Harry's lips. It was soft and gentle but there was an undercurrent of desperation to it. To Draco it felt like coming home. Carefully he wrapped an arm around the smaller boy's waist, pulling him closer. His other hand found its way into soft black hair and Draco shivered when this elicited a groan from Harry.

When they broke apart for air, Harry grinned again. "Hi," he murmured. Draco had never seen him look so adorable. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed and lips red and kiss swollen, his hair sticking up where Draco had grasped it. 

"Hi," Draco answered, rolling his eyes. 

"Did Blaise and Sirius know?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Yes. I got here this morning, I asked them to find a way to send you up."

Harry grinned. "I thought it seemed a bit odd that I was sent up here to open up the windows by myself when I'm not even staying here. And they seemed so set on it ... How was your break?" Harry asked, not moving out of Draco's embrace. 

"I have to talk to you about that, but later on. Right now, I don't particularly feel like moving."

"Hm," Harry answered. "Me neither."

* * *

"HA HA!" Sirius crowed as Harry and Draco came into the Great Hall later that night. The party had started already, but Draco and Harry had been so happy to be reunited that they had spent most of the day just talking, and then Draco had explained to his boyfriend that he would be leaving some times in January. Harry had been upset, but Draco had marvelled at how the younger boy was able to put on a brave face. He had simply said that they would make it work. They had spent another hour cuddling in an attempt to make up for the days they had missed before Harry had pointed out that, at this rate, they would be celebrating New Years alone in the common room. 

"You could have told me," Harry said with a mock-pout. 

Sirius only ruffled his nephew's hair and grinned. "It would have wrecked the surprise!" Blaise nodded in agreement, looking in a self-satisfied way.

"Draco! I didn't think you would make it for the party," Dean cried as he joined them. "Merry Christmas you two. And Happy New Years!" He raised a glass of champagne.

"You're allowed to drink?" Draco asked, somewhat surprised as Sirius snatched two more glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Harry and one to Draco.

"'Course," Blaise said with a grin. "What the hell else do you propose we toast with?" 

"You don't need to get sarcastic, I was simply surprised, is all," Draco said, though he, too, was grinning.

Sirius stepped over to his nephew as the other bantered. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Harry frowned and glanced at him. He licked his lips nervously and shook his head. "Nothing, I'll talk to you later. Let's just have fun," Harry said, trying a small grin.

Sirius nodded. "I'm holding you to that, Guppy," he said.

"Guppy?" Draco asked as Sirius walked off and Dean and Blaise were swept up in conversation.

"Stupid nickname. He insists on using it, even though I've grown up." 

Draco chuckled. "It's kind cute, actually," Draco said, thoughtfully.

"Alright, then I'll call YOU that," Harry answered, sipping at his champagne.

"No, thank-you. It isn't as cute in reference to me," Draco said, and Harry rolled his eyes. "It's better than Munchkin and Chickpea," Draco said flippantly.

"Chickpea?" Harry said, obviously amused.

"Shut up. I'm never talking to you again," Draco said, pretending to be offended. Inside, he was happy that he had been able to distract Harry from his worries about their imminent separation.

"Aw, don't be like that ... Munchkin...."

"I'll never be able to confide in you, will I?" Draco asked.

"Of course you will, Munchkin," Harry answered, tapping Draco on the nose.

Draco wrinkled his nose and scowled. "Alright, Guppy, if you want to play that game ..." Draco never finished because at that point a shout echoed through the Great Hall. The countdown was starting. Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and Harry turned to look at him, smiling but seeming curious. 

10 ...

"You know," Draco started.

9 ...

"They say that whoever you kiss at the last stroke of midnight on New Year's is the person you'll spend the rest of the year with."

8 ...

Harry grinned at him and rested his head on his shoulder. 

7 ...

"Shall we, then?" Harry asked, after a moment, not removing his head from Draco's shoulder.

6 ...

Draco smiled to himself and tightened his grip on his boyfriend's waist.

5 ...

"I think so, if you don't mind it," Draco whispered. 

4 ...

Harry removed his head from Draco's shoulder and Draco saw that the green eyes were watering slightly.

3 ...

"No, I don't mind," Harry answered.

2 ...

"After all," Harry said, swallowing and glancing away shyly before looking back, a smile now in place. "It's for luck."

1 ...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!" The bell began to ring and Draco and Harry leaned forward, pressing their lips together. The heady taste of champagne on both of their tongues. Draco was surprised at how much Harry had changed over the break. Before, the smaller boy would have never kissed in public, even if everyone was far too distracted to notice.

Not noticing the press of the crowd as everyone toasted and cheered. Not hearing the whoops of encouragement from Sirius and Blaise, or the sharp reprimands from Dean. Not noticing the bright flash as Sirius snapped a photo of them. Harry and Draco kissed, for luck. Because they were certainly going to need it.

* * *

TBC

* * *

YAY SAP!! NO FLAMES!!! 

Thanks so much for all the reviews. I hope you all liked this chapter. I tried to hurry. I have exams so I don't know when the next will be posted. Bear with me! I promise things will get better, it's hard to write when all Draco and Harry want to do is go all gooey on each other. Sorry, guys! I hope you still enjoyed! Things will return to 'normal' soon. ^_^

IMPORTANT: I have decided to write a sequel to this fic. Obviously it's a ways off, but I still have to think about it. As such, are there any characters or relationships you want to see developed? (Can be romantic relationships or friendships)This is besides the DM/HP which it will obviously be, and there will be Sirius/Remus as well. Please let me know, through email preferably, gold-snitcher@yahoo.com. I make no guarantees, but I'm trying to sort out my thoughts.

For those of you who are awaiting, with bated breath, THAT scene to which I hinted in the last chapter well ... keep waiting ^_^ I know I'm evil, but you've got to believe that it's harder for me than it is for you because I KNOW what's going to happen and I want it to but it has to make SENSE so I can't write it yet. grrr. Anyway, I don't want to build it up lest it not meet your approval. 

Sailor Grape, you really have to stop that! (Blushes insanely) that was the greatest review of all time and the LENGTH! Man! That rocked.

This chapter dedicated to:

Fenaily - for the beautiful review of chapter six. I'm glad my fic is breaking new ground. I got a bit tired of Harry or Draco finding an old piano at Hogwarts. I can't imagine why this hasn't been done before. I'm glad you're enjoying it.

and

Driven to Insanity - Wow. That's all I can say. Thank you so much for that review.

AND

Belle, for the sap-approval rating and protecting me from evil flamers, not that I had any at all, but still. Thanks for the compliments on the letters, I was actually quite worried about those, and it was good to hear they went over well! Thanks bunches, your review made my day.

* * *

TEASER: 

*evil grin*

* * *


	9. As It Comes

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers 

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter Nine: As It Comes

* * *

"Potter!" The shout startled Harry and, on instinct, he turned to find the source. He knew who he would see as soon as he turned, but the reaction was ingrained and he couldn't stop himself. 

"What do you want, Peter?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice level. Even now he couldn't help feeling nervous whenever he saw Peter or any of Riddle's old friends, even if they were just passing in a hallway.

"Why, Potter," Peter asked, walking up to him with a smirk. "I think we both know exactly what I want ..."

"Harry!" Harry let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding as Draco hurried up to his side. The courtyard between the school and the residences was Peter's favourite place to ambush him. Harry had never been so relieved to see a friendly face; after a run-in with Snape and a difficult practice with Pereskew, Harry wasn't feeling quite himself. "You okay?" Draco asked once he had reached Harry's side. Harry didn't miss the narrowed eyes as his boyfriend glared at Peter.

"Yeah," Harry answered softly and was surprised when Peter started to drift off without even a parting jibe. He wondered if Draco had said something to Peter before that made the boy's attitude change, however slightly.

"What did he say? Did he do anything?" Draco asked protectively, once he had made certain Peter had left the path.

"Nothing. He didn't say a thing," Harry answered. When Draco continued to eye him suspiciously, Harry added, "Really, Draco, you showed up before anything happened. I'm fine." Harry flashed a reassuring smile and Draco nodded, obviously satisfied.

"How were classes?" Draco asked, changing the subject as they continued walking towards Hart House.

"Horrid," Harry answered. Draco pulled out his keys and opened the front door, holding it as Harry walked through. "I couldn't concentrate and I thoroughly butchered the Mozart I was practising. Pereskew was in a temper and I don't know what was happening. And then I ran across Snape on my way out of the lesson and he made a point of reminding me of every reason I had for giving-up piano and now I run into Peter. But it's fine now, because I've also run into you." They headed up the stairs and made it to their door.

"So, it's my responsibility to make everything right again?" Draco asked with a half-smile as he unlocked the door to their section. "I prescribe hot chocolate, some cookies and a good novel. If the patient is willing?" 

"The patient is very willing," Harry said as he stumbled into the common room and barely made it to the sofa before tumbling off his feet. He landed on the cushions with a whumph and Draco divested himself of his heavy winter coat and gloves before turning to boil the water. "You can't possibly get comfortable if you're lying around in your bloody winter clothes. At least take your hat off," Draco pressed. Harry moaned and lazily dragged a hand up to his head where he snatched his hat off and lobbed it at Draco. "Well, no hot chocolate for you. I refuse to cater to cranky and unappreciative people." But Draco still handed the mug to Harry who reluctantly sat up to accept it.

"Thank-you," Harry murmured as he took a sip of the warm liquid, immediately feeling warm again. Draco proceeded to pry the mittens and coat off of Harry and then they settled onto the couch, curled against each other. 

"Have you had any word from your mum?" Harry asked after they had finished their chocolate in comfortable silence.

"Nothing. So far it looks like Lucius won't support my staying here," Draco said, tucking his head on Harry's shoulder and smiling softly when Harry leaned his on top of Draco's.

"Scholarships?" Harry asked softly.

"Too late to apply for them. They've all been awarded at the beginning of the year." They sat in silence again, both trying to envision life without the other.

"Have you ever seen the film Shakespeare in Love?" Harry asked out of nowhere.

"Yes," Draco answered lazily, his eyes closed and he inhaled Harry's scent, a fresh smell of apples with a hint of something simply Harry underlying the spring scent.

"Well, it's like that. It'll work out. Somehow." Draco nodded and tried to pretend he didn't hear the desperate edge in Harry's voice. 

* * *

"Go fish!" Blaise proclaimed, and Dean waled, smacking his hand on the deck of cards and scowling as he picked one up. 

"I hate you and you're cheating!" Dean cried with a pout as he resorted his hand.

Blaise cackled and Harry shook his head. The section, minus Crabbe and Goyle, were spending their Saturday night playing cards. It was mid-January and the stress of building assignments was just setting in. The play was being presented at the end of the month and Draco, Dean and Ron rarely saw Blaise or Seamus or Harry because they were always involved in some practice or another.

"Cheating at Go Fish?" Draco said with a smirk.

"Queen!" Blaise shouted holding out a hand in wait for Harry's queen.

"Am not!" Harry replied and everyone paused for a moment in shock before laughing.

"Aw man!" Ron said with a broad grin as he clapped Harry on the back. "I've missed ya, mate!" 

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's antics and smacked Blaise's hand away. "Skinny dip in the lake," Harry ordered, and winked at Blaise who winked back and snatched a card from the deck.

"Don't tempt me, Harry," Blaise retorted.

"Nothing he hasn't already done," Seamus muttered and everyone snickered.

"Ace," Harry asked, an expectant eyebrow quirked in Ron's direction.

"That I am," Ron said offhandedly, and then, when he noticed the game wasn't progressing, he looked up from his hand. "What?" he asked as he caught sight of Harry's look. "What, you want an ace?" he asked, looking a little stunned.

"That's what he asked for, Ron," Seamus muttered sardonically.

"How the hell - how do you know I have one? You're a bloody mind-reader!" Ron cried as he reluctantly removed his ace from his hand and passed it to Harry. Harry had to tug it to get it out of his best friend's grasp and he winked as Ron continued to mutter.

"My, my, Ron. So competitive, and it's just a simple game of go fish," Blaise said with a nasty smirk.

"Ten," Harry asked and Blaise slammed his cards face down on the table.

"God dammit, Harry!" he muttered, but when Harry simply grinned, Blaise removed two tens from his hand and flicked them over to the ebony haired teen. "And I get accused of cheating!" 

"I'm not cheating," Harry defended. "I'm playing a game. I happen to be paying attention to what people are asking for and to the movement of cards."

"You're playing Go Fish strategically?" Dean asked, slightly dumfounded. "You never play poker this strategically."

Harry shrugged and promptly relieved Dean of a six. "Draco, two," Harry asked.

"Sorry, Harry. Have to ask you to fish on that one," Draco said with a wink. "Blaise, nine?"

"HA! You go fish! Drown in the lake! May you never have a day's luck with your - nope - stopping," Blaise said, and Harry, settling the card he had picked from the deck into his hand, looked at him with obvious amusement.

"What? May he never have a day's luck with what?" Neville prompted innocently. Blaise shook his head.

"You were about to say 'may he never have a day's luck with his rod', weren't you, Blaise?" Harry asked with mock seriousness. Everyone snickered as Blaise turned a bit pink and nodded.

"I meant his fishing rod - because he had to fish - you know, because we're playing, go fish ..."

"Careful, Blaise, I don't think Harry would appreciate that," Seamus prompted, and it was Harry's turn to go bright pink and shift uncomfortably. Draco smirked a bit and threw an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders.

Draco was completely surprised when Harry looked up and, in a completely serious expression, said, "You're absolutely right, I wouldn't appreciate it at all. You have no idea just how much I like to go fishing."

"Do you mean that as a sexual reference or are you talking about the actual sport?" Dean asked as Seamus snickered.

"Please! I have no wish to discuss rods of any nature, whether they be required for sport or ... sport," Ron said, and winked at Harry who was still quite pink. "Now, Dean, do you have a five?"

"It's not your turn!" Seamus cried.

"Well, it's my turn by default because everyone else was too preoccupied with Draco's rod to make a demand so I've taken the liberty of getting the game moving again!" Ron defended. 

"I really don't understand how all our games always end-up so bawdy," Neville asked rhetorically, Harry nodded in agreement until he was elbowed in the side by Draco.

"Ow, what was that for?" 

"You participated in that last exchange, if I recall." In truth, Draco was ecstatic at the change, just before Christmas Harry would have likely excused himself until the conversation had settled on a safer subject, he also would have been uncomfortable with Draco's arm, which was still stubbornly situated on his shoulders, and which had also pulled Harry quite close to his boyfriend. The fact that neither of these reactions had happened had Draco inwardly jumping for joy. 

"Well," Harry offered quietly, shrugging nonchalantly. "Nobody's perfect."

* * *

"Draco?" Sirius said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" 

"I just wanted to talk," Draco said as Sirius nodded and ushered him into the room, shutting the door behind him. Sirius' office was chaotic and bright and stuffed with art pieces.

"Is Harry okay?" Sirius asked a bit nervously as he sat down in one of the leather chairs opposite Draco.

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. I just ... there's a lot I've been thinking about and I didn't really know who to speak to." Now that he thought about it, Draco wondered if this were such a bright idea. He had grown close to Harry's uncle, and he trusted the man. There was also the fact that Draco really had no one else to turn to. He didn't want to pressure Harry, and he didn't think anyone else would really understand.

"I understand," Sirius said, and smiled in such a way that Draco believed the man really did. "Go ahead, what's on your mind?"

"It's looking like I have to leave," Draco began quietly. "I'm waiting for word from my mother but ... I don't know what to do."

"What's your main worry?" Sirius asked, when it seemed Draco wouldn't go on.

"Harry," Draco answered, and Sirius wanted to smile. He had been happy that his nephew had found someone, but he had been ecstatic that the person Harry had ended up with had been so understanding and supportive. When Harry had spoken to him after New Years about Draco's situation, Sirius had been greatly frustrated. Harry had been through two rough years back-to-back, and now this. He had offered to support Draco for the rest of the year, but Harry had said that wouldn't be right. He knew Draco and had said that it would only make him feel awkward. Sirius could understand that, but he was still frustrated that, just when things were settling down, this happened.

"What about him?" Sirius prompted.

"There's so much. For one, long distance relationships never work. I mean, I know Ron and Hermione have been making do, but, the dynamic between Harry and I ... it can't be reduced to paper and pen. It won't work."

"You're worried that Harry will get frustrated and break it off?" When Draco was silent, Sirius sighed. "You know, I heard someone describe violinists once and the quote has always stuck with me. It goes like this: The violinist is that peculiarly human phenomenon distilled to a rare potency - half tiger, half poet (1). Draco, you'd be surprised how resilient Harry is. You see the poet in him - but you're missing the tiger. He's determined. When he makes a decision to do something, he does it," Sirius said, trying to convince the blond boy. There was so much he wanted to impart. So many things that he had seen Harry do that would more than convince Draco that Harry was for real, and yet Sirius wondered if that would be okay. He hadn't known Draco all that long, even though there was something in the way the boy interacted with Harry that made it seem as if he had always been a part of his nephew's life and always would be. 

So Sirius settled on drawing a breath and speaking honestly. "At the start of the year, I was really worried for him. He told me that you know about Riddle?" When Draco nodded Sirius had to stop a snarl. "He was a fucking piece of work and deserves what he got. But even with him out of the school and secure in prison, Harry had - changed. He was always so open with his thoughts, and he was so tactile, but all of that changed. I don't really know how to explain it," Sirius said but was cut-off when Draco nodded.

"You don't have to. I've noticed," Draco murmured, feeling a flash of anger towards Riddle and Peter and their stupid friends that had put Harry through so much.

"I was trying to think of the best thing to do for him. I was almost ready to get someone he could talk to but - lately, I've been noticing things. He's eased up a lot, and some of his confidence is back. Now, I'm telling you this because I know you love him, and I also know that he loves you and I fully believe you owe it to each other to honour that and not let that go because you're worried about what may, or may not happen. Don't make decisions because you're worried about the future, take everything as it comes and make your decisions as the problems present themselves."

Draco nodded and immediately felt a wave of relief washing through him. He knew his panic regarding his relationship with Harry was unfounded, but that wasn't exactly going to stop it.

It was hard for him to believe that he had changed so much, starting from that moment when he had climbed the steps and dropped his bag on the cold floors of the entranceway to what was to be his new school. From the defensive and bitter boy he had once been to this - and Draco wasn't entirely sure what THIS was.

"Draco," Sirius said, cutting off Draco's thoughts. "It'll work out. Where there's a will, there's a way."

* * *

"Come on, Potter, don't be like that," Peter pouted and snaked out a hand, clasping the strap of Harry's school bag and effectively halting his movement. 

"Sod off, Peter, I don't have time for this," Harry snarled and wrenched his bag out of Peter's grasp. Quickly he started walking again hoping to get to one of the more crowded halls. He mentally noted that he would have to find another route from English to Drama that would take him through a more crowded hall.

"Now listen, Potter," Peter bit out, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and shoving Harry hard, slamming him against the wall where Peter proceeded to pin him. "You don't have your little boyfriend here to save you and we have unfinished business." A shiver ran through Harry and before he could react to Peter, who was running a hand across his cheek and down his neck, Harry started remembering all the other times, with Riddle, when, no matter how he had fought, he had been unable to defend himself. 

He was helpless, just like then. He was easy prey. 

"That's it, Potter, you know you like it," Peter whispered insidiously, and Harry felt ill. Felt as if he were going to vomit right then and he wished fervently that someone would come, but by now everyone had reached class, and Sirius wasn't on alert anymore because Riddle was gone. He was supposed to be safe.

Fucking bastards. Why the hell did they pick him? What had he ever done to attract their attention? What kind of a sick twist went around their own school molesting their fellow students? And just why the hell wasn't Harry fighting back? What had happened to his instincts? He had always fought before.

But what was the point? It never got him anywhere and it only made them more determined. 

Even a dying rabbit struggles. He wasn't all that weak, he'd fought Riddle off, hadn't he? Yes. Of course he had. And look what happened to him. Jail. Harry had fought and he had won. So what the hell was he doing now?

"That's it," Peter crooned when Harry remained motionless. Feeling brazen, Peter nuzzled Harry's chin and then, carefully, pressed his lips against the smaller boy's. 

Perhaps Peter had been distracted because of the kiss. Perhaps he was enthralled in the intoxicating warmth of Harry's warm lips that sent a frisson of sparks through his body, or maybe he was gloating at being able to kiss the most attractive and sought-after boy in the whole of the school. Whatever it was that distracted Peter, it allowed Harry to jerk his knee up between Peter's legs, and then, when the boy dropped in shock and pain to the floor, Harry's right hand fisted and shot out, striking Peter on the side of the face. Hard.

And then Harry ran, full-out, to Sirius' classroom.

* * *

"Fuck me!" Seamus cried as the group was on their way to dinner. "Did you see Peter's face?" Draco frowned and turned to look back. The left side of Peter McLain's face was a very deep purple with a tinge of greeny/blue to it. It was really quite a sight. 

"Wonder what the hell he got himself into?" Blaise asked offhandedly, then, noticing that Harry had turned faintly pink, Blaise clapped a hand on his back. "Now see that? That's called cosmic retribution. And there's likely more wherever that came from." Harry tried to smile but was faintly uncomfortable, since he had told no one aside from Sirius and the headmaster about what had happened. He would have to tell Draco, but he didn't want his boyfriend getting into trouble.

"Yeah, that's it, Blaise. Cosmic retribution. And may he never have a day's luck with his rod," Seamus teased, and Harry managed a laugh at that, promising himself that he would tell Draco after dinner.

* * *

"What is it, Harry?" Draco asked when Harry tugged him into his bedroom and shut the door. 

"Draco?" Harry asked cautiously, patting a spot on the bed beside him. "I need to tell you something, but first I need to say that I'm okay and that I really don't want you to get upset, alright?" When Draco simply looked at him cautiously and made no move toward the spot on the bed, Harry licked his lips nervously and pressed him, "You have to promise me you won't get mad."

After a moment, Draco nodded and sat on the bed. "I promise."

"Well," Harry licked his lips again and tried to smile. "You know how Seamus was wondering how Peter got the shiner?" Draco nodded. "I met him, on the way to class today and we - talked -" Harry said, watching Draco's reaction closely.

"You talked," Draco said disbelievingly.

"Yes - well - there were words exchanged," Harry edged out.

"Am I to assume you hit him?" Draco asked, feeling rather satisfied that it had been Harry to put that rather wonderful mark on that bastard's face. An odd sense of pride filled him, but still, he was worried about the rest of the interaction. Harry wasn't usually violent. 

Harry nodded in answer to his question and Draco sighed. "May I asked but compelled you to punch him that hard?"

"I also kneed him pretty good," Harry admitted sheepishly, and Draco had to stop a laugh. "I did it because - he kissed me," Harry said and watched as Draco's eyes slowly widened.

"He kissed you?" Draco asked, stunned and angry. He'd spoken to Peter, and made it quite clear of the consequences. Was the boy so stupid? What was it, anyway? Why was he so determined to hurt Harry?

"I didn't want to," Harry said anxiously, misinterpreting Draco's obvious anger. "He caught me on the way to class and there was no one there and he pinned me against the wall and I panicked and I froze and I'm so so sorry but I " Harry stopped when Draco's hands cupped his face.

"Shh, I'm not mad at you. How could you think I'd be mad at you?" Harry let out a breath of relief and smiled when Draco pulled him close. "Are you sure you're okay?" Draco asked after a moment.

"I'm certain - well, my hand's a bit sore," Harry admitted. Draco examined Harry's hand but beside from the knuckles being obviously tender there was nothing wrong. 

"That must have been one hell of a punch," Draco said after a moment.

"I'm rather proud of it," Harry murmured.

* * *

"It's like that with music, as well," Harry said, settling back into the sofa and frowning. Blaise shook his head and rolled his eyes, a movement which Draco noticed and smirked at. Pansy Parkinson simply nodded eagerly, encouraging Harry to continue. "Well, with writers, you were saying that there's this ... I dunno, this responsibility and this curiosity to create a world that's entirely your own creation. You can do anything, really. That's an awful lot of power," Harry added, and cocked his head to the side, unconsciously leaning into the arm which Draco had propped on the back of the sofa. 

"Well, it's just," Harry continued, trying to organize his thoughts. "You said writers are essentially exploring the world in it's entirety but really, it's human nature, because that's really what shapes the world the most. You make characters say things and do things and you are trying to figure out what makes that character work, but in essence, every character is a part of you, as the writer, because that character was created by you." Harry frowned and ran that statement over in his head. Was he making sense? He hoped so.

"Yes, but there are no characters in music," Pansy said. Blaise had dragged her up to his res to meet his friends. She had been incredibly reluctant at first, but had soon realized that Blaise's friends were extraordinary. Though most had retreated and gone their separate ways when she and Harry had fallen into a discussion about the various arts and the philosophy behind them.

"No, there are no characters, really," Harry agreed. "But music isn't really about creating universe's and exploring character's and motivation and such and such. It's about emotion. So musicians are really doing the same thing as writers but they use emotions as a tool to understanding human nature. Either way, in both cases, the musician and the writer are as much a part of the process of understanding as the music or the words. It's their own reactions that reveal just as much as the sounds or the actions of the characters." 

Everyone sat and let that settle in. The discussion had begun as a random question about philosophy, which had turned into a debate about philosophers and whether or not some of them were not just the slightest bit batty and then, out of nowhere, it had turned into this. Blaise had found it all amusing and, just for a lark, tossed out another question. "What about acting, then?"

"Well," Pansy ventured. "It's the same, isn't it?"

"How so?" Blaise prompted. "You aren't really creating anything as an actor."

"But you are," Pansy disagreed. "It's like what Harry said, musicians explore emotions. Actors create a character, using emotions and all that. Really, actors are a bridge between the writer and the musician. They're a combination of the two. It's really just in the way your head works and how you understand things. Then you can tell whether you're a writer or an actor or a musician or an artist." 

"What does it mean if you're all of the above?" Draco asked, and Harry snorted softly. 

"I dunno, you're either very confused, very talented, or partially insane," Pansy tossed out, knowing who Draco was alluding to. Draco snickered and Harry turned an interesting shade of pink. "But really?" Pansy ventured. "Really, I think it's just that you'd be very open. I mean, you can understand on so many levels. People call that artistic in a broad sense, you know, but it's all about understanding, really." 

"So does this mean that Crabbe and Goyle should actually be respected because, even though they cannot play at all, they're still trying to understand human nature through a different medium?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco offered. "Could you respect Crabbe and Goyle for playing the way they do? Me, I just think they're a bit sadistic."

"Please, don't ever refer to Crabbe or Goyle in any way that could result in envisioning them in a sexual situation," Blaise pleaded, turning slightly green. This was greeted by laughter, and Pansy rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay. She had not had the misfortune of hearing either Crabbe or Goyle play but from how Blaise had described it, she was hoping she would be able to keep it that way.

* * *

The photograph, Draco noted, was exquisite. 

Sirius had captured The Kiss; that brilliant, heart-wrenching, breath-stealing, shiver-inducing kiss that he and Harry had shared as the clock struck twelve. 

The photo featured Draco and Harry at it's centre, crowds of revellers blurred in the background. Both of them had their eyes closed. Harry's left hand, which grasped his champagne glass loosely, was stuck out to the side while his right arm was clutching the nape of Draco's neck, tugging him closer. Draco's arms were both wrapped around Harry, his champagne glass tilted precariously to one side as it was braced against the small of Harry's back. 

Harry was just slightly on his toes.

Draco closed his eyes as he remembered that night. He had been a tangle of mixed emotions. On the one hand, he was happy to be back and be with Harry, but he also knew this was probably all temporary. Everything now rested on a decision his father was unlikely to make. Draco had doubted everything as he had sat, waiting for Harry. He even wondered if Harry would be angry with him for having to leave, or if they would break-up because of it.

Somehow when Harry had stumbled into the common room, Draco's dark thoughts had been expelled, though the worries still lurked in him. Yet none of those worries were founded. Harry, though upset at the idea of being apart, had pointed out that they would make do, that Hermione and Ron were managing and that they could as well. Draco hadn't been as certain. Hermione and Ron had begun their relationship with the distance in place. Letters had been all they had had, except for the short, spontaneous visits when Hermione had surprised Ron, like at the concert. 

Yet he and Harry had begun close. They had both grown accustomed to the other's company. Draco wondered if letters would be able to come anywhere near what they needed from each other. Somehow Draco didn't think it would be enough, but he was determined to try. He refused to lose Harry because of his parent's decisions.

And then, to top-off the shock of being back with his boyfriend, and the emotional roller coaster that their ensuing discussion had been, there had been that kiss.

Grinning to himself he looked back at the picture. They were standing on an angle, part of Harry's back to the camera, but the kiss was still visible, and Draco was pleased to note that it did not look sloppy or tentative. It certainly had not felt like either. 

His mind turned back to the Christmas break and how difficult it had been to be away from Harry. He really didn't know how they would survive the separation.

With a sigh, Draco rose from the sofa and fixed himself a cup of cocoa before returning to his thoughts.

* * *

"Hey, Draco," Blaise called just as Draco was about to make the trek back to the main building. It was after dinner and time for his usual practice session. Draco had noticed that, more often than not, his practice sessions involved more glowering at the keyboard than playing of notes. 

"What is it?" Draco asked when he noticed Blaise looking around the common room to make sure that everyone who was actually in the section had their doors closed.

"I know that your parents are getting divorced and I just wanted to say that - if you ever need to talk, I'm here. My parents decided to split over the break as well and, though it wasn't as if I didn't see it coming, I just thoughts that - well, there are some things that are difficult to explain to someone who hasn't gone through the same thing, you know?"

"Yeah," Draco said, then smiled. "Thanks, Blaise. It means a lot. And - same here, if you need to talk -"

"Absolutely. Anyway, I should probably get back to work. Can you believe we're rewriting a scene so close to the performance date? It's insanity. The most disorganized production of my life!" Draco laughed and shook his head as Blaise tugged at his hair and, with a dramatic sigh, returned to his room. Draco pulled his coat closed and left the common room.

* * *

"He's been expelled?" Dean asked excitedly as he dropped into his seat at the lunch table. 

"Who has?" Harry asked as he took a sample of his vegetable soup to test the level of heat.

"McLain," Blaise answered with a grin and a wink. Harry nearly spat out his soup. He turned his shocked expression towards Draco who had arrived with Ron. "See Harry," Blaise said, recalling Harry's attention. "Cosmic retribution. It's what I was explaining to you."

"What's this?" Ron asked.

"McLain's got himself expelled," Neville paraphrased.

"Did you know about this?" Harry whispered to Draco who looked at him blandly and shrugged. "Draco," Harry pressed, feeling stunned. "What did you do?" Draco grinned and, before Harry could say anything, pulled him over and kissed his temple lightly.

"Nothing much, now hurry up, we've English next and you know how professor Tillingson gets when we're late." Harry stared at his boyfriend a moment and then, shaking his head in dismay, returned to his soup.

* * *

"You should be sleeping," Draco whispered, causing Harry to start from where he was sitting on the sill. 

Harry turned his head away from the window and smiled sheepishly at Draco. "I couldn't sleep," he explained. Draco stepped over to him and raised a hand to run through the chaotic mass of black hair as they looked out the window. The moonlight was lighting the trees of the forest and a very light dusting of snow was falling, clinging stubbornly to the bare branches. It was such a peaceful night, it seemed, for a moment, as if they were the only two people in existence.

"Harry? Play for me?" Draco asked and Harry turned around to look at him. Draco's hand stilled in the dark tresses and he returned the gaze.

"Okay," Harry said after a moment and smiled. 

"Now?" Draco pushed.

"Draco, it's three o'clock in the morning."

"Please?" He wasn't sure what he was expecting, he was simply acting on instinct. Draco wanted to hear Harry play, there was something settling about it, something calming and invigorating and Draco needed that. He remembered the conversation he had had with Sirius and he knew that it was true, right now, this was what he needed.

So Draco had asked, but it had been a wistful request, he wasn't expecting Harry to smile mischievously at him and slip off the window sill. "I'll be right back," Harry whispered. "You might want to put on some clothes," he added as he disappeared down the hall to his room.

Feeling exciting and slightly stunned, Draco pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper, grabbing his coat and gloves from where he had draped them on his chair and returned to the common room where Harry was waiting, violin case in hand, grin in place. With a tilt of his head, Harry gestured that they should go and Draco nodded, slipping out the door and creeping down the stairs.

It was exhilarating, though Draco had done things like this before in his other schools. The difference was in those schools the headmasters were terrified of what his father would do to them if they tried to punish him, which sort of took the fun out of his late night adventures. Now, though, he didn't have his father's clout to back him up.

Outside, the wind was blowing the snow around and he had to walk quickly to keep up with Harry. "I can't believe I suggested this," Draco murmured as Harry led them off the path towards a wall of the school that was covered by thick tangling vines. 

"Yes, you're a terrible influence," Harry scolded, brushing aside some of the vines to reveal a handle.

"Where the hell does that go and, more importantly, how the hell did you know it was there?" Draco asked surprised, Harry winked and opened the door, holding it open for Draco to slip through before following.

"Tricks of the trade. I told you I knew passageways. This is the result of an entire summer left to my own devices while Sirius set-up lesson plans." They walked through the dark passageway before popping out through another small door that was covered by a tapestry of a few minstrels serenading a young woman. "This way," Harry said, leading them through the open hallway before darting into a room and shutting the door quietly. 

"What is this place?" Draco asked, looking around at the small room which was entirely black. The walls were covered in a soft fabric and the floors were coated by a black rug. He and Harry were standing on a relatively large step just inside the door. Before them were large steps that led to a small level, semi-stage at the bottom of the stairs.

"As far as I could make out, it used to be an old drama room for after school use. The imrpov group sometimes uses it but otherwise, it's a perfectly quiet room that is adequately insulated which mean," Harry said with an impish grin. "No sound gets in and no sound gets out." 

Draco grinned and then quirked an eyebrow. "Well, do I have to wait all day? I thought you were going to play something?" Harry rolled his eyes and walked down the steps to stand on the stage. He opened his violin case and took out his violin. Draco had learned that this violin, a Masters' which Sirius had given Harry as a gift when it had been necessary to get a replacement because of Riddle's little 'message', was called Komm Susser Tod. Harry had named it himself, though there were few who knew the violin's full name, most just thought it was Susser, Sweet, which was Harry's nickname for it. Harry had shaken his head when he explained this and said "you know you're a lost cause when your instrument starts taking on the characteristics of a loved pet. Mine has a bloody nickname ..."

"What do you want to hear?" Harry asked and Draco shrugged. 

"Play the Vivaldi's 6th," Draco requested, he was desperately in need of good memories to block-out his nightmares. Harry grinned and nodded.

As soon as Harry began to play, Draco had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to ward off the shivers that were running through him. There was something in the confident notes, in the light and quick melody. When Draco's breathing had calmed back down he opened his eyes and smiled as he watched Harry's fingers dance. 

This had been exactly what he had needed. He needed the light music, the reminder of that perfect moment when Draco had stumbled into Harry's private practice only to be hit with the dazzling realization that he was in love. He needed to see Harry in the relaxed glory, fingers dancing over the fingerboard. And it didn't matter that all of this was finite, that he was probably leaving in two weeks. It didn't matter that his dreams were dark and brooding or that he had just gotten someone expelled in order to protect the only thing that really mattered to him. It didn't matter that at any moment someone could burst into the room and slap both him and Harry with detentions. None of it mattered because right then, everything was perfect, perfect, perfect.

* * *

"Nev, I thought you were supposed to be at piano? What are you doing back?" Draco asked when Neville came running into the common room after lunch looking frantic. 

"My nails," Neville explained. "Snape thinks they've grown too long. He sent me back to clip or else he said he'd do it for me." Draco nodded in sympathy as the dark haired boy raced into his room, and then, a moment later, came back and settled onto the couch with a pair of clippers, snapping his nails off quickly and glancing at the clock frantically.

"Don't rush, Neville, or you'll cut passed the quick and your fingers will be sore for ages," Draco advised. He'd done that before and it had hurt something fierce. Of course, he had still been forced to endure his lesson, and then to practice. Sometimes it was difficult to remember why he bothered, but then, of course, he would sit down and play and everything would fall into place. Like last night as he had listened to Harry. He could still hear the music in his head and for the first time since his mother had told him that he would likely be leaving, Draco believed that maybe everything would work out, because, really, Draco couldn't picture leaving everything he had found.

* * *

Dear Draco, 

I have given some thought to your education and have come to a conclusion. Your mother has mentioned that she is unable to support your continued education at your current school. I am sure you are aware of the settlement which your mother and I have come to, but she feels that it does not provide her with the resources to maintain your current position there. I have come to the conclusion that it would be simper for you to remain where you are, and so have decided to provide the funds. I have also taken the liberty of opening a separate account for you that should be substantial enough to support you through university. I expect you to attend university, Draco, and to excel at it.  
  


Lucius Malfoy

* * *

Draco let the letter fall to the ground as he tried to wrap his head around the meaning of it. 

He was staying. His father had let him stay, had supported his decision. It made him feel oddly guilty because, even after the fight he had had with his father, even after full-out claiming he no longer had a father, Lucius had still let him stay. It made his eyes sting to have proof that his father still loved him, in his own way.

With a jubilant laugh Draco hopped off his bed and ran out of his room. "Harry!" he called. "Harry come here, you have to hear this!"

* * *

TBC  
  


Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I had a LOT of exams and essays and then I was confronted with writer's block. I have no idea when I'll be posting the next chapter, please be patient with me. Thanks so much to everyone who sent reviews for the last chapter. And I'm sorry if this one seem anticlimactic and boring. More slashy goodness in the next chapter, hopefully that will make up for this.

NOTICE please, please, let me know who you want to see in the sequel. I know it's early to be asking, but I need to know which relationships need to develop in THIS fic to get them ready for the sequel. I'm happy to say I know what's going to be happening in the sequel (sort of) so there should be no delay between the end of this fic and the beginning of it's sequel, but either way, that's a ways off. As I've said, it will be DM/HP predominantly with a bit of RL/SB. Do you guys want RW/HG and BZ/PP? I was thinking about it. Also, do you want the gang to be as involved as they were in this? They will certainly be making appearances but is there anyone you want emphasized?   
  


IMPORTANT!!!!!!!! TO ALL READERS!! This is an important PRE-WARNING. In future chapters on the very near horizon, there will be sections with restricted content that may or may not border on NC-17. Since I am aware that there are under age readers for this fic, and since the majority of the content is not restricted, I have decided to leave the overall rating as it is BUT I WILL be marking the section with the risque content and I ask that under age reader PLEASE avoid those sections. If you decide to read the section, I ask that you be mature about it and not come and flame me because I did warn you. I am giving this notification now in the hopes that readers are prepared to act maturely and responsibly. Thank-you.

* * *

TEASER 

A cheesy English assignment

Valentine's Day

Winter Cold

* * *

1. This is a quote from Yehudi Menuhin 


	10. Heartbeat

WARNING: There is restricted content in this chapter. For the sake of younger readers I have not changed the overall rating, but the section with the restricted content is marked as follows ( etc.) If you choose to read the section, you do so at your own peril Please be mature about the content. I have warned you.

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers 

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter 10: Heartbeat

* * *

"This has got to be the cheesiest, most sentimental assignment I've ever received in my life!" Ron moaned, and Dean snickered.

"I think it's sweet," Blaise disagreed, batting his eyelashes and smiling innocently. "Come on, Ronny, don't you want to practice for Hermione?"

"Urgh, you don't think she'd ask me to do something like this, do you?"

"I don't know, Ron," Dean said teasingly. "It is Valentine's Day, girls are liable to expect anything."

"It's true, you know. God knows what Pansy wants from me," Blaise said sombrely.

"I don't see why you're making a fuss," Harry insisted as he finished brewing his cocoa. "It's just poetry."

"It's not JUST poetry, Harry," Ron corrected. "It's LOVE poetry, and I'm going to have to recite it to the entire class."

"We're all reciting it to the class," Harry persisted. "It's not a big deal." Draco smiled and shrugged and Seamus nodded his agreement. Harry came over to the couch where Draco was seated and, when Seamus offered to move over, waved him off, opting instead to settle in his boyfriend's lap. Draco grinned and wrapped one arm around Harry's waist and placed the other on the ebony haired boy's leg for balance.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Ron's just being melodramatic," Neville said offhandedly, and Harry chuckled.

"Nev's right, Ron. It's not even like it's an all boy's school and you're reciting love poetry to a bunch of blokes. There's girls in your class, and if you do it right, they'll go all dovey on you!" Blaise encouraged.

"I'm sure Hermione will appreciate that," Ron muttered.

"Anyway, have you picked something out yet?" Dean questioned.

"I have," Seamus interrupted with a glint of pride. "I'm doing a Robert Burns poem, 'A Red, Red Rose."

"Hm. That's a good one," Nevillle commented.

"I've never heard of it," Ron admitted.

"O my luve's like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in June ..." Seamus began dramatically before being smacked in the back of the head by Dean.

"I'm already painfully aware that you've chosen one, Seamus!" Dean hurriedly interrupted. "It's bad enough I'm in your class and have to hear you recite it yet AGAIN come Friday. I don't think I can take anymore of that bloody poem!" He turned towards where Blaise and Draco were sitting and, with a desperate look that made them laugh, cried out in dismay, "He recites it in the morning when he's brushing his bloody teeth, and on the way to class, and then at meals!"

"It's a good fecking poem! It's not my fault you have no appreciation for the art form! Anyway, I've got to memorize it somehow, don't I?" Seamus defended.

"Just not around me, please," Blaise pleaded.

"Anyone else chose theirs yet?" Ron asked. "I'm open for suggestions."

"I'm doing a poem by one of the Earls of Rochester," Blaise said.

"Which one?" Seamus asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"I dunno, someone named John Wilmot. Anyway, he wrote it in some woman's prayer book."

"What's it called?" Ron asked.

"Written in a Lady's Prayer Book," Blaise said with a smirk.

"That sounds about right," Ron muttered. "And I suppose it's as filthy as your mind is."

"Hardly. But it's amusing - considering it was in a prayer book."

"I've never heard of it," Draco said. "Don't suppose you'd do a recitation?"

"Oh sure, let him say his poem, but throw a knock on me when I try to say mine!" Seamus whinged.

"We've heard yours, Seamus. It's a classic. I've never heard of this one!" Neville said.

"Hem hem," Blaise cleared his throat dramatically as he rose from his chair and gave a bow. "Written in a Lady's Prayer Book, by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester," Blaise began.

"Fling this useless book away,

And presume no more to pray.

Heaven is just and can bestow

Mercy on none but those that mercy show.

With a proud heart maliciously inclined

Not to increase, but to subdue mankind,

In vain you vex the gods with your petition;

Without repentance or sincere contrition,

You're in a reprobate condition.

Phyllis, to calm the angry powers

And save my soul as well as yours,

Relieve poor mortals from despair,

And justify the gods that made you fair;

And in those bright and charming eyes

Let pity first appear, then love,

That we by easy steps may rise

Through all the joys on earth to those above."

"So, basically, stop praying and lets go shag," Ron muttered. "Should have known you'd choose something like that."

"Pansy thinks it's amusing," Blaise defended.

"What happened to being all romantic and lovey-dovey?" Neville asked.

"It's romantic. He's wooing her," Blaise defended.

"That's hardly wooing," Harry muttered. "Anyway, Ron, if you're having trouble, I'll look through some poetry books with you. I haven't chosen mine yet, either."

"Me neither," Draco said. "Can I join you, then?"

"Yeah, why not?" Ron said. "Should we do it after class on Wednesday?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, and Draco nodded in agreement.

"Aren't you cutting it close?" Dean said. "I mean, you've got to have it memorized by Friday."

"I'm pretty good with that kind of thing," Draco said and Harry nodded in agreement.

Ron simply shrugged. "I'll manage."

"Have you picked a poem, Nev? And Dean, what about you?" Harry asked, wondering if they'd like to come as well.

"I've picked one," Dean said with confidence. "I'm doing Richard Cranshaw's 'Wishes to His Supposed Mistress'"

"That's a nice one," Draco commented. "Long, but nice."

"I've got it half-way memorized already. It's pretty simple with poetry because there's a flow in it. It sticks in your head pretty easily."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Neville agreed. "And don't worry about me, Harry. I've chosen mine already as well."

"What is it, then?" Ron asked, trying to find inspiration for his own search, but also intrigued by Neville's blush.

"Uhm, it's Percy Bysshe Shelley, called 'To-'."

"That is a really romantic poem," Harry said with a smile, a slightly dreamy look in his eyes which Draco didn't fail to miss. Harry was a shameless romantic and Draco found his boyfriend's antics incredibly adorable.

Neville flushed darker. "I was thinking I might recite it again - later," he mumbled.

Harry grinned wider and nodded enthusiastically. "Ginny would love to hear it. You should take her off campus after class. Some nice restaurant and then, afterwards, go for a walk in the woods or something, and recite it to her then," Harry advised.

"You are NOT advising Neville on how to woo my sister right in front of me!" Ron said, aghast.

"Ignore him, Nev, I think Gin would love it. Whatever you have planned," Harry said with confidence when Neville looked mortified at Ron's reaction.

"I think I'll take you're advice, Harry, if that's okay," Neville murmured.

"Perfectly, I wouldn't have given it otherwise," Harry said with a grin.

"If anyone else needs romantic advice, go to Harry, for only ten pounds per minute he'll meddle in you love life!" Blaise advertised.

"Sod off," Harry muttered, looking incredibly embarrassed. Draco laughed and shook his head, ruffling his boyfriend's hair and trying to think of something he himself could do with Harry for Valentine's day.

"You can borrow my truck, if you want," Harry said to Neville.

"You wouldn't mind? That would be really great," Neville said with excitement. "I should probably go and tell Gin not to plan anything with her friends."

"Nev, it's Valentine's Day, I seriously doubt Ginny's going for a night-out with her friends," Seamus said with a grin.

Neville bit his lip. "Just in case though," he said, and hurriedly jumped from his seat and rushed out of their section.

* * *

"Uhm, er - Ginny?" Neville called, albeit softly, as the redhead and several of her friends were exiting the large gym where they had been practising their fencing. 

"Neville!" Ginny greeted and waved her friends on as she slung her bag full of gear on her shoulder and walked over to Neville. "How were classes today? Was Snape an utter wanker again?"

"Uhm - no - well, yes, actually, but uhm ... I just." He stopped and examined his feet. He mentally ran through the way each of his friends would go about this, each with a good deal more grace than he was currently managing. Well, with the exception of Ron, but no doubt the boy would bluster about to the extent that Hermione would find him utterly adorable, as opposed to Neville, who was simply feeling a bit stupid. He glanced at Ginny to see if there was any sign of her finding his ineptitude charming, she was smiling softly, but she usually smiled so that wasn't any indication "I wanted to ask, Ginny, if you would like - I mean, if you're free on Friday - that is - would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Neville looked at anything except his girlfriend. He had heard that it was supposed to be easier to ask your girlfriend someplace - in fact, hadn't it been Seamus who had confidently informed him that after you were an established couple, the nerves weren't bad anymore? Neville made a mental note to inform Seamus of how very wrong he was. When there was still silence, Neville glanced at Ginny and was surprised to see that she was grinning, and her eyes were slightly glassy.

"Hey," Ginny greeted when his eyes met hers. She tilted her head to the side and raised a hand gently stroking the sensitive spot under his chin. "Of course I'll go to dinner with you. I'm looking forward to it." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek and Neville was painfully aware that he was blushing horribly but at the moment he really couldn't bring himself to care.

"Are you going back to your residence?" he questioned after recovering his faculties after the giddy rush that simply being near Ginny always seemed to initiate.

"Yes, I've just finished with my practice," Ginny confirmed.

"I'll walk you back," Neville said and snatched the bag from Ginny's shoulders. "I thought your fencing was on Thursdays."

"Yeah, well," Ginny shrugged as they started walking off. "Oliver's gone a bit nutters over the tournament coming up and he's been after everyone to practice whenever they have the time. A group of us set up some loose practice hours."

"But I thought the tournament isn't until April?" Neville asked, a bit concerned that he had forgotten the date. He was quite horrible with remembering things and thus made an extra effort to record any significant dates for upcoming events in his day-book. He was almost certain that the date for Ginny's tournament had been April 15.

"I know," Ginny stated, and Neville took a moment to congratulate himself on remembering this fact. "But you know Oliver. He wants us to win this year."

"But we always win," Neville said with a frown. It was true, their school was renowned for many things and their fencing team was own of those thigns.

"Yeah, which means there's more pressure," Ginny explained with a shrug. Neville decided it was best to let this go. The inner workings of Oliver Wood's mind was just one of many things Neville felt certain he wold never understand.

* * *

"And, of course, I'll have a dozen roses," Ron finished confidently, and Harry grinned and shook his head, rolling his eyes at his best-friend's antics before returning to his book. They were alone in the common room and Ron was going over his Valentine's Day plans. "Oh bugger," Ron suddenly muttered. "Do you think a dozen roses is cliche?" 

"It is a bit over done," Harry agreed.

"One rose, then," Ron supplied. "How's one rose? Too trite?"

"It's passable. Definitely better than the dozen," Harry said, turning the page in his novel.

"You're not helping! In fact, you're confusing me. You've just said that a dozen roses is over done, and now you're saying one is a tad trite."

"Well, Valentine's Day isn't about the flowers or the little gifts, it's all about the feeling. If you're just doing something because everyone else is, or because no one else is, then that's just silly. It's supposed to be that, whatever you do, it's from the heart, and if that's true, then you can't go wrong. So if a dozen roses are from the heart, then that's that," Harry said, finally lowering his book and quirking his eyebrow at his friend. "But if you're still on about romantic plants, than I feel I should tell you that there are other flowers in existence."

"Romantic flowers?" Ron asked.

"Yes, and several are a lot more romantic that roses. And there are arrangements you can create that have their own meanings," Harry supplied.

Ron looked sceptical and leaned back in his chair, frowning at his old friend. "Like what?"

"What do you mean, 'like what'?" Harry asked, being difficult simply because he could. "You mean off the top of my head? Well, purple violets mean that she occupies your thoughts, weigelia symbolize a faithful heart and honeysuckle is devoted affection. Narcissus, so that she will always stay as sweet as she is, and gardenia, to say she is beautiful. And moss rosebud and myrtle because, together, they're a confession of love"

"Fuck me, Harry." Ron took a moment to stare dumbfoundedly at his friend. "Do you just walk around with all this plant knowledge in your head?"

Harry blushed. "You wanted my help," he defended lamely.

"I know, but you were like a bloody encyclopaedia on vegetation or something!" Ron protested. "Where the hell did you learn all that, anyway?"

Harry blushed and tried to hide in his book. "I just, read it in a novel somewhere and it stuck with me." He glanced over the book and met his friends amused eyes. "Well, you know how I am with romantic things," Harry tried to protest. Ron continued to smirk at him. "I can't help it!" Harry tried. "Oh, sod off!" Harry cried and returned to his reading. Ron simply shook his head in amusement.

* * *

Harry stepped out of the smaller conservatory where his private violin lessons were held. Unlike the concert hall where he and Draco had first met, and where the concerts were held, this room was less formal and Harry had always liked the way the music would bounce off the rounded walls. 

He breathed a sigh and adjusted his grip on his violin case. The lesson had gone quite well, and though his fingers were a bit stiff, Harry felt exceedingly pleased with himself. "Harry!" a familiar voice called and he smiled and waved as Luna Lovegood paused in the hallway ahead of him. He walked over and nodded in greeting, smiling faintly. "You've come from practice?" she questioned.

"Yeah," Harry said with a smile as they began heading through the hallways, slowly making their way to the courtyard by the dorms. "You?"

"I've come from biology. I can't believe how boring it is! Half the time I don't even know what the professor is saying!" she whinged, and Harry's smile increased as he shook his head. He hadn't enjoyed science, he'd taken biology because, with his hatred of mathematics and his tendency to zone out during long and complex processes, it had seemed the most suitable choice. He had taken a course as well, over the summer, in astronomy, and that had been interesting, up until he found himself being swamped by various co-ordinates to various planets and stars and phenomena in the night sky. Though biology had been tedious at times, Harry had managed to do reasonably well and he'd actually found certain parts interesting.

Harry blinked when he realized he'd been lost in thought and had not been paying attention to Luna's monologue. He shook his head slightly to focus and turned back to her. "I wish I could hear you play, Harry. I always have to wait until the concerts, and even then, it's not the same," she whinged. Harry felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. He hated when people gushed over him, it was incredibly disconcerting and half the time, Harry had no idea how to react. It was true that Luna and he were friends, but Harry wasn't so close to Luna. He would certainly not consider playing in front of her like he did for Draco, and Ron and the others, he and Luna were simply not that close.

Luna must have seen his awkward flush and she bumped against him playfully, slapping his arm gently. "You're too modest," she cooed and Harry lowered his head, feeling his blush intensifying.

"Harry!" another familiar voice called, and he and Luna stopped just outside the courtyard to await Dean who jogged to catch up. "Hey, Harry! Hi, Luna. How are you two?" he questioned as they started walking again.

"Fine," Harry mumbled.

"Wonderful," Luna grinned. "I was just telling Harry that he's far too modest about his music," she paraphrased for Dean. Dean, who was about to comment on this statement, was cut off when Luna turned back to Harry. "Have you chosen your poem?"

"Er - not yet," Harry admitted. He felt a bit foolish, choosing a love poem for the class should be simple, and, more importantly, Harry should have done it already. But it was only Monday, and he had time, after all, since Valentine's Day, and thus, the English class where he would have to recite his chosen poem, wasn't until Friday.

"Oh, I wish I were in your class," Luna huffed. "I bet you read really well. I've got English with a bunch of absolute dunderheads who wouldn't know poetry if it danced naked in front of them in a thong! I'm dreading their recitations." Harry chuckled at the image and Luna grinned at him. When the reached the two diverging paths, one to the girls' dorms and the other to the boys', Luna stopped and placed a hand on Harry's arm, smiling cheerfully at him. "If you need help choosing a piece, come and talk to me, I'll help you," she offered.

"Thanks, Luna, but Ron and Draco and I already plan to work on it on Wednesday," Harry said.

Luna's face dropped a bit, but then she smiled winked. "Leaving it to the last minute? Anyway, Harry, if you need help, the offer stands," she waved at Dean before retreating down the separate path.

"Man," Dean muttered. "Why doesn't she just say 'if you need inspiration for you love poetry recitation on Friday, come to my room and I'll give you all the inspiration you'll desire," he cooed in a voice that sounded disturbingly similar to Luna's.

"Dean, stop it," Harry chided, though he was snickering. "Luna's a friend, she's not like that."

Dean looked at his friend in bewilderment. It always baffled him how Harry could be so innocent. "Harry, she was all over you."

"That's just how she is, she can't help it," Harry defended. "She's always been a bit odd, and she's clingy, but that's just the kind of person she is." Harry unlocked the main entrance to Hart Hall and they made their way up the stairs. Dean shook his head at his friend's excuse. It was blatantly obvious that Luna had a thing for Harry. A blind man could have spotted it in the dark.

* * *

"Settle down, class!" Professor Tillingson ordered from his perch on the large oak desk at the front of the classroom. Harry winked at Draco and turned to face-front. "Before we get into the rest of the poetry unit I want to go over Friday's assignment. I've had a few questions and I feel I should clarify." From their seats beside each other, Harry and Ron exchanged dubious glances, both wondering how much clearer the instructions could get. "The only specification I have for the poem that you choose to recite is that it be a love poem, in the spirit of Valentine's Day. Whether the poem is humorous, long, short, sad or otherwise is your choice. Also, these are published works. We'll get to our own poetry later, for now I want you to find a piece from a published poet." Blaise, who was seated between Draco and Pansy, rolled his eyes and, discretely, pulled his tie up pretending to be choked. 

Professor Tillingson was a very energetic man who, though he was well into his sixties, looked young for his age, and certainly had more energy than some of the teenagers in his class. He picked up a poetry book from his desk and peered over his spectacles at his students. "As an example, I am going to recite a poem to you by George Herbert, entitled, 'Love (III)'." He cleared his throat and flipped to the appropriate page.

"Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,

Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack

From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning

If I lacked anything.

"A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here":

Love said, "You shall be he."

"I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,

I cannot look on thee."

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

"Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame

Go where it doth deserve."

"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"

"My dear, then I will serve."

"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."

So I did sit and eat."

The class waited as the old professor closed the book and set it down. "And of course, I will expect a certain amount of applause after each recitation " professor Tillingson chided. "It is quite difficult to recite love poetry to an entire class." Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron who rolled his eyes and joined in with the rest of the class as they began to applaud. "Good," the professor said, clapping his hands together once, loudlly and everyone settled down. "Now, I am giving you a free work period to compose some poetry for your portfolio assignment which is due at the end of the unit. Get started!"

* * *

**Explicit content**

* * *

Draco's fingers felt heavy as he moved them over the keys. He played slowly, continuously looking for something, though he wasn't sure what it was. It didn't feel right. Ever since he had returned home for the break Draco hadn't felt right playing. He tried again, leaning into a run, though his fingers moved stiffly over the keys and the notes did not flow properly. 

He heard the heavy sound of the doors closing softly and felt a smile tug at his lips. He knew that he was staying out late. Dinner had started fifteen minutes before but Draco didn't feel like eating, not until he figured out what was wrong. He smiled softly as he heard the soft shuffling of footsteps and knew that Harry had come looking for him. He felt a bit guilty, but his frustration with himself and his instrument over-ran his guilt for troubling his boyfriend.

He played another bar and then another, increasingly dissatisfied with the sound until, finally, Harry leaned forward and wrapped his hands around Draco's wrists, effectively ceasing Draco's movements. "Stop," Harry chided softly. Draco sat back and took a breath, shifting over to allow Harry to sit beside him. It had been a while since Harry had come to his private practices, or he invaded Harry's practices. Work had been heavy and there had been many things preoccupying the both of them.

"I don't know what happened. And I don't know what to stop," Draco muttered in frustration. He felt like kicking the stupid piano for all the trouble it was causing him. Instead, he huffed and Harry tilted his head to the side, watching Draco closely.

"It's not the piano, Draco," Harry chided, as if reading Draco's thoughts. "You've changed the way you approach it."

"The way I approach it?" Draco asked dubiously. He turned to look at Harry who had seated himself facing Draco, straddling the piano bench. Draco was aware that Harry's eyes were reflecting the light from the lamp which was the sole source of light in the room.

"Here, rest your fingers on the keys," Harry said, picking up Draco's right hand and placing it on the piano keys. "Do you feel that? Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Draco asked. He had learned that Harry was quite skilled at getting him to let go, and he had long since learned to trust his boyfriend when he gave out his strange and cryptic instructions.

"You're touching it as if it were an instrument; a tool," Harry explained. Draco turned to look at Harry, who looked as if he were trying to figure out a better way to explain what Draco was having difficulty with.

"It is an instrument," Draco said slowly, and Harry sighed.

"It isn't," Harry disagreed quietly but emphatically.

"Then how am I supposed to touch it?" Draco asked, feeling his frustration rise once more.

Harry let out a huff of breath, shifting backwards as his eyes scanned the room, as if looking for some kind of aid in his explanation. Finally, his eyes darted back to Draco and he eyed him closely once more. "How would you touch me?" he asked finally, almost too quietly to hear. Draco felt a lump rise in his throat and his stomach flopped about like a fish out of water. He was aware that his breath was perhaps coming a bit faster and that he was leaning forward, closer to the ebony haired boy who continued to watch him, hypnotic green eyes pulling him further into the strange dream - for that's what it had to be. "How would you touch me, Draco?" Harry repeated, and carefully removed Draco's hand from the piano and pressed it against his chest.

Draco stared at his hand where it rested against Harry's black shirt. It was a startling contrast, pale flesh against dark cotton. From where it lay, he could feel the faint beat of Harry's heart, as well as the quick breaths the boy was taking. Everything seemed so surreal, sitting there in the dim light, and Draco couldn't stop himself from leaning forward in slow motion and pressing his lips against Harry's, kissing him slowly and heatedly.

It felt as if a dam had burst. After months of patient touches and shy smiles and chocolate kisses, Draco was immersed in feelings so intense that a single word could not describe them, and neither could a paragraph of exclamations and adjectives. His head was spinning and he couldn't get enough. Harry tasted spicier than Draco remembered, perhaps from whatever meal Draco was missing in the dining hall, but there was still the chocolate and the intoxicating taste that was simply Harry. Draco thought he could very easily get drunk on the taste of him.

Harry groaned, his fingers curling into Draco's hair and Draco pulled him closer, so that the ebony haired boy was almost seated in his lover's lap. Both boys were aware that something had changed between them, and neither boy had any inclination to stop. Draco was already slipping his hands under Harry's shirt, and Draco had never been more happy that the boy wore his shirts untucked.

The gasp he was rewarded with as his hand brushed against a nipple sent electric shivers through his body. "God, Harry," he whispered breathlessly as they finally parted. Draco leaned forward, pressing Harry back against the piano bench and the other boy shivered, shifting his grip from Draco's hair to the back of his neck and tugging him down for another kiss.

They were pressed against each other, illuminated by only the single piano lamp which Draco had turned on to practice, the rest of the room was dark and the sun had already set. Their breathing reduced to frantic gasps whenever they could part far enough to take them in. "Anyone can come in," Draco said when they parted again to catch their breath.

"I don't care," Harry said breathlessly. "Don't stop," he pleaded, and Draco sighed, shifting lower as he slowly unbuttoned Harry's shirt. He had been wanting to touch the boy, had imagined it before, but it had never felt so right, so electric in his dreams. With the shirt unbuttoned, Draco set to work exploring the pale expanse of flesh beneath him, admiring the way certain spots could make Harry arch off the piano bench so intensely that Draco rose with him, and other spots made the boy moan deliciously.

He was aware of Harry's hands struggling to get access to Draco's own shirt, and he paused to press the hands down. When Harry looked bewildered, Draco kissed him again, slower this time, and then nipped his ear gently. It was another thing that struck Draco, that, at the moment, all he was thinking about was touching Harry, was soaking in the boy's every reaction, tasting every part of him. Draco, though aroused, wasn't thinking about any reciprocation. He wanted Harry. Now.

Draco let go of Harry's wrists, giving him a look that hopefully communicated his wish that they stay where he had placed them. Before Harry could voice his protest, Draco's hand bumped against Harry's belt and Harry froze, looking up at Draco with suddenly wide eyes. "May I?" Draco asked quietly, already preparing himself for the negative response he was expecting.

"Yes," Harry answered , catching Draco off-guard. He looked into Harry's eyes, the colour of fresh moss, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. Whatever confirmation Draco had been searching for, he found, as well as a startling trust and love that made his chest constrict and forced him to catch his breath.

Draco moved slowly, watching for any sign that Harry might have changed his mind, but moss green eyes, now darkened with desire, stared right back and Draco opened the belt and tugged down the pants and boxers. He caressed Harry's inner thighs as he slowly kissed and licked his way down the boy's abdomen, smirking slightly as he saw Harry's grip on the edge of the piano bench tighten and then, relenting, Draco took Harry into his mouth.

Harry's reaction was a sharp gasp and a strangled moan, and Draco didn't think he had ever heard anything more arousing. He worked slowly, taking in all of the dark haired boy's reactions and was surprised to find that he was following Harry on the rise to climax. Draco hadn't had much experience, but he had never come simply from touching another person. Yet, as Harry arched his hips up and let out a strangled gasp, his head hanging over the side of the piano bench, Draco felt his own body tense and as he swallowed Harry's release, he closed his eyes as he found his own.

After a moment, when he had managed to collect himself, he shifted and tugged Harry's boxers and pants back up, slowly redoing the belt before looking up to meet the dazed emerald eyes. "You okay?" he asked, rather stupidly, he felt, as Harry simply watched him, looking deliciously dishevelled.

"Yeah," Harry answered, still obviously glazed from the intense climax. The response prompted a grin to spread across Draco's face and he bent forward and kissed Harry gently. "That was ..." Harry tried after a moment.

"I know," Draco answered when it became clear that Harry couldn't finish his thought.

Harry smiled shyly at him and then frowned. "You didn't ..."

"I did," Draco answered, blushing slightly and he turned his head to study the piano.

"Oh," Harry answered. Draco stood up and straightened his clothes before offering a hand to help Harry up. Grabbing his music and flicking the light off, Draco was about to head out of the room when he felt Harry grab his hand. "I love you," Harry whispered, and the way he said it, Draco couldn't do anything but believe him. They kissed briefly, tongues exploring tentatively though not desperately as they had earlier.

"Come on," Draco said and, still holding onto Harry's hand, they waked out of the piano hall.

* * *

**End of Explicit Content**

* * *

When Draco walked into the piano hall for his private lesson on Wednesday morning, he made a point of sitting at a different piano. If Snape noticed the change, he did not comment on it, but Draco found that, no matter how hard he tried, his gaze was continuously drawn to that innocent piano bench where he and Harry had been two nights ago.

Still, the memory was fresh in his mind and several times, Draco lost track of the music as he remembered how Harry had looked, or got distracted by a note that reminded him of one of the sounds that had echoed off the walls.

Naturally, Snape grew frustrated with Draco's inability to concentrate, and after being thoroughly scolded, Draco was reduced to practising scales and runs. His professor, who usually showered him with praises, ended the lesson with a sarcastic remark and advise that Draco should practise - a lot.

His day seemed to spiral down from there. A surprise quiz in mathematics, which was far from being one of Draco's strengths. He had misunderstood the homework in his history class and ended up writing an essay on the wrong subject. The professor had refused to look at Draco's work and had, on top of the new essay that was assigned, ordered Draco to repeat the last one properly. In Draco's defence, the instructions had been cryptic, and he was not the only one to make the mistake.

Added to all of this, both his regular pen and his back-up pen had run out of ink and he'd been reprimanded for not being prepared for class. It didn't matter that Blaise was there to cheer him up and lend him another pen that he could keep for the rest of the day.

By lunch, his patience was short, and he had forgone eating to start his history essay. His afternoon theory classes had been arduous because, by then, he was already in a funk and the class, quite a slow one, grated on his patience. He was aware that he was not in the best frame of mind by the time he dropped his books off in his dorm and headed to the library to meet Harry and Ron, but he also knew that he needed to pick a poem as soon as possible so that he would have tine to memorize it.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, looking at the tense frown as Draco leaned over one of the poetry books they had set down on their work table in the library. They'd been reading for a while already and Ron had retreated once again to the stacks to try and find a more suitable anthology. 

"I'm fine," Draco answered, caught in a poem by Lord Byron.

Harry watched his boyfriend with concern. It seemed obvious to him that Draco was troubled by something but there wasn't much he could do if the blonde didn't want to talk about it. Instead he flipped through his book and smiled at one of the poems. He had picked out a collection of love poetry and had found one of the classics, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet XLIII, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," Harry murmured out loud and smiled to himself. He read on, "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight."

"Can you read in your head?" Draco snapped, and Harry stopped, biting his lip.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He didn't bother to protest anymore than that, worried that whatever was bothering Draco would only be further aggravated.

They worked silently for a bit, with a harsh tension in the air, until Draco finally shoved the book of sonnets he had been reading away. "This is the most ridiculous waste of time ever," he snarled. Harry was both relieved that they were in the Library and Draco was forced to keep his voice low, and frightened by the angry look in his lover's eyes.

Harry had never seen Draco very angry before. They had fought once, but it had been a silly spat fuelled by nerves from their impending separation. This was something different. Draco was frustrated and angry and it was completely obvious to Harry that this outburst was the result of stress from school, frustration and full-out anger at his parents.

Harry pressed his back into his chair, trying to keep away from Draco. He may have not seen Draco angry before, but Harry was well-acquainted with what frustrated anger looked like, and what it could do to whoever encountered it. Part of him was angry at himself. He wanted to calm Draco down and sort out something to make whatever was bothering Draco easier. But the rest of Harry was simply terrified. He had already been a bit nervous around Draco, not really certain of what to do after their intense intimacy only the night before. The conflict in Harry had him paralysed and he could only watch as Draco shoved his chair back and rose to his feet, towering over Harry. He was still ranting about the 'stupid assignment' and how he hated Valentine's Day because it was a stupid consumer holiday that didn't mean anything and that there was no reason for such a frivolous and pointless assignment to celebrate it.

"Then," Harry managed, finally catching his breaths, which were panicked, staccato gasps for oxygen. He licked his lips as Draco's attention turned completely on him. "W-we can just forget it. We don't need to celebrate it, Draco if - if that will make it easier -"

"This isn't about you, Harry!" Draco hissed. How he was managing to keep his voice low with all the anger, Harry didn't know, but he was fervently wishing that Draco would shout, because this silent rage was twice as terrifying. "For once, this has nothing to do with you! But you wouldn't be able to understand that, would you?" Draco snarled, advancing slowly until he was very close to Harry. "You wouldn't know what it feels like to never live up to your father's expectations, no matter how hard you try. You wouldn't know what it feels like to try and try and try and never manage to make your own father proud. You wouldn't know what it feels like to watch your own mother walk out on her life, on the person she loves and know that it's your fault. So fine Harry. Lets not celebrate bloody Valentine's Day, because suddenly that makes everything so much bloody better!"

Harry knew there were tears in his eyes, he didn't care. He knew that this wasn't really Draco speaking, this was Draco's anger, and Harry wanted to reach forward and pull him into a hug and do whatever it took to convince him that his parents' divorce wasn't because of him, and that Draco was anything but a failure.

But Harry was terrified, and now he was angry as well. Because Draco was right. Harry didn't know what any of that was like, but Draco didn't know how much Harry would give if he could have even that much of his parents back. "You're right, Draco," he murmured. "I don't know what any of that is like." He took a shuddering breath and was suddenly very calm and very steady and very very hollow. Harry stood up and picked up the poetry book he had been reading. With a gentle hand, he pushed Draco back so that he could get by and walked out of the Library.

* * *

"Hey," Ron called quietly as he grabbed Draco's hand before he could leave the library. "What happened? Where did Harry go?" he asked, wondering why his friend wouldn't have told him that he was finished. 

Draco shook his head and shouldered his bag. "He went back to res," Draco said. "Do you mind?" he asked, indicating where Ron still had a grip on his arm. "I have a lot of work to do tonight."

"Draco," Ron began but Draco had pulled his arm out of his grasp.

"Leave it," Draco ordered and walked away. Ron watched him go and frowned wondering what he'd missed while he had been searching for his poem. With a defeated sigh, Ron grabbed the book that he had found with the poem he had chosen inside and hurried to the desk to check it out. He made his way through the hallways quickly and was picking up speed the closer he got to the dorm.

When he was inside the common room, he dropped his bag on the sofa and made a beeline for Harry's room. The door was shut and he knocked on it. "Harry?" There was no response so he knocked a bit louder. "Harry? You in there?"

"Yes," came the soft reply.

"Why didn't you let me know you were leaving? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry answered, though Ron was unconvinced. "I'm just tired, Ron. I'm not going to come down for dinner. I'll see you at breakfast."

"Alright, if you're sure. Did you find a poem?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Okay, then, Harry. I'll check on you later?" Ron's answer was a soft sniffle, and Ron sighed but respected his friend's desire for privacy.

* * *

"Miss Parkinson," professor Tillingson called as he noted that the girl's hand was the only one that was raised. "Would you -" Toe door to the classroom was opened and a dark haired boy who Andrew Tillinson knew quite well stepped in looking a bit sheepish. "Mr. Potter," he greeted. 

"Professor," Harry greeted. "I'm sorry to be late, I was -"

"That's quite alright. Please, take your seat," he motioned for the boy to take his seat and smiled slightly at the plain relief on the boy's face. "Now, Miss Parkinson, I believe you had volunteered?"

Pansy Parkinson walked confidently up to the front of the classroom and flashed a smile and a coy look before she cleared her throat. "One Perfect Rose, by Dorothy Parker.

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.

All tenderly his messenger he chose;

Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -

One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;

'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'

Love long has taken for his amulet

One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet

One perfect limousine, do you suppose?

Ah no, it's always just my luck to get

One perfect rose."

She finished and everyone was laughing and clapping. As she walked back to her seat, she winked at Blaise, who grinned back. Slowly, people in the class began to volunteer. Some readings were quite atrocious. Some forgot lines in their poems, or put the wrong emphasis on words, but all in all, it was fun. Ron eventually recited a Theodore Roethke poem entitle 'She'.

Finally, mustering his confidence, Harry raised his hand. He erected the fourth wall as he walked up to the front of the class, using the drama technique to conquer his nerves. Though he was used to crowds, he was reciting this poem for Draco, and since they hadn't seen each other until this class, it was quite nerve-wracking.

"Valentine, By Carol Ann Duffy," Harry began, and then drew himself up tall and looked directly at Draco. "Not a red rose or a satin heart,

I give you an onion,

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.

It promises light

like the careful undressing of love.

Here.

It will blind you with tears

like a lover.

It will make your reflection

a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or kissogram.

I give you an onion.

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

possessive and faithful

as we are,

for as long as we are.

Take it.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,

if you like.

Lethal.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,

cling to your knife." Harry didn't wait for the clapping to die down, he glanced at his professor and then quickly returned to his seat where he sat with his back straight, not facing Draco. Though Draco had maintained eye contact, there had been no sign that he was in any way significantly affected by it.

Finally, Draco stood to recite his poem. He was the last person in the class to go, and for some reason, Harry found himself holding his breath. If he were honest with himself, he knew exactly why he was nervous. He was thinking that, perhaps, Draco would have thought the same way Harry had, and used the poetry to express what he had wanted to the night before. "Two or Three: A recipe to Make a Cuckold, by Alexander Pope," Draco stated clearly. Harry felt his heart drop. Draco wasn't thinking about him at all, obviously, as he recited the poem.

When Draco had finished his recitation, Harry had already packed his bag, and before Draco had even made it back down the isle to his desk, and just as soon as the bell rang, Harry was up and out of his seat and hastily leaving the English classroom behind him, not even stopping to spare a glance a Draco and thus, missing the worried glint in the soft grey eyes.

* * *

Blaise stood in front of the door and adjusted his tie. He was dressed casually but still quite stylishly as it was a significant occasion and Blaise didn't want anything to go wrong. He knocked on the door and tried to blow an errant strand of hair out of his face. He was still huffing at it when the door was opened and he abruptly stopped and tried to look casual. "Is Pansy in?" he asked. The girl who answered looked him up and down and then winked before retreating back into the room. 

From behind the door, Blaise could hear the girl calling Pansy and, after a moment, the door opened again, and Pansy smiled at him. "You haven't stopped by for a panty raid, have you?" she teased and Blaise grinned.

"Alas, no," he said and then stepped forward to give her a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry I'm a bit late but I had trouble finding a suitable basket."

"A suitable basket?" she questioned doubtfully.

Blaise grinned and pulled the picnic basket from where he had been holding it behind his back. "I humbly request your exquisite company for a picnic," he said and mock bowed.

"Well, how can I turn an invitation like that down?" Blaise was already grinning wildly but he felt his smile widen as he tucked a hand around his arm and kissed the spot just below his ear briefly before motioning for him to lead the way. "I've picked the perfect spot for us," Blaise explained as they walked through the halls.

He held the heavy doors to the Dining Hall opened as she walked through them and then he followed her in, motioning her to a spot by the large windows, more or less in a corner. He opened the picnic basket and pulled out the blanket he had snatched from his room, it was a quilt his mother had made for him when he was first starting school. Spreading it out on the ground, he held out a hand and Pansy accepted it, smiling as she settled onto the picnic blanket and watched him pull out the food he had nicked from the kitchens. It was quite the satisfactory dinner, though it wasn't either his or Pansy's favourite meal, since he could only convince the cook to give him what had already been made, but it was still delicious and Blaise was looking forward to it.

With everything laid out on the blanket, Blaise poured her some of the grape juice that was passing as wine, since eating in the Dining Hall had restricted his choice of beverage. "To roses and limousines," Blaise toasted, and Pansy rolled her eyes.

"To making everything romantic," she corrected and they sipped their grape juice.

They ate their dinner, talking about everything and nothing and when they were finished, they sat back on the blanket and sipped their grape juice. "I got you something," she said hastily after they had set their drinks aside. Feeling a little silly, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small box wrapped in blue metallic paper with a green bow. She handed it over to him and looked at him nervously.

Blaise pulled off the wrapping slowly and then lifted the lid on the small box. Inside were five guitar picks, each with a romantic saying on one side and a picture on the other. He carefully picked up a black pick with 'I Love You' written in pink on one side and a rose on the other. "Thank-you," he said and leant forward to give her a kiss. "I got something for you as well," Blaise said, with a smirk. He pulled out a small box that was plainly wrapped and one lone stem red rose. Pansy accepted the parcel and raised the rose to smell before she set it aside carefully.

Setting to work on the box, she tore the wrapping aside and lifted the lid to the box. "How did you know?" she said in surprise. She started to laugh as she pulled the toy limousine from the box.

"I went out after school today. I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that!" he said, and they both laughed.

"Thank-you," Pansy said once they had stopped laughing, and Blaise could tell she didn't just mean for the silly gift. He grinned and pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

Harry had been through it before, but it had been different, then. He had always loved Valentine's Day, even though he had never had anyone to enjoy it with. There was something about seeing happy couples sharing thoughtful moments with each other that had always made Harry feel optimistic and content. It hadn't mattered before that he was alone, because there would be a time when he wouldn't be, and when that time came, he knew he would be just as shamelessly sappy and lovesick as everyone he was seeing. Valentine's Day, without the cliche cards with someone else's words printed out neatly and impersonally, and without the blatant and obvious things that it symbolized, was one of the most potent and emotional days he could think of. 

Today, however, Harry found that he hated the red and pink ribbons that had been hung in the hallway, and he had caught himself sneering twice when he had seen happy couples professing their undying love for each other. In fact, Harry was getting quite depressed and bitter, and what was worse, he had no one he could talk to about it. Everyone he knew was off with their significant other, even Dean and Seamus had left with dates, and Harry was simply alone.

He rolled his eyes as he saw a boy humbly offering a bouquet of roses to a simpering girl and he hastily turned the corner only to be confronted by more gaudy ribbon. He rolled his eyes, there would only be one place that was safe from the tacky decoration, and that was the art hall.

Harry nearly walked into a wall as a thought occurred to him. Sirius. Of course. Harry actually managed a half smile as he hastily changed direction and headed up the stairs to the art wing. When he got there, he breathed a sigh of relief, there was no sign that it was Valentine's Day here, only the safe and comforting paintings and sculptures that students had created in class.

Hurrying down the hall, Harry knocked on Sirius' office door. "Sirius?" he called softly, knocking once more. When there was no answer, he headed over to Sirius' classroom. "Siri? Are you here?" He looked around inside and then opened the door to the Pit and peered in. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere. Harry was now, undoubtedly, alone for Valentine's Day.

He heaved a sigh a sat down on top of one of the art tables, dropping his bag beside him and simply feeling sorry for himself. With another sigh, he let his head drop into his hands and he closed his eyes tightly. Perhaps he could hide away in one of the small music rooms and simply play. That was what he needed, he decided and, sliding from the table and with a new burst of confidence, Harry headed out of the art room, only to pause and step backwards, back into the room. His eyes slid sideways and he frowned.

What he had at first dismissed as a simple art piece now caught his full attention, because his name was written in large letters on the chalkboard at the front of the class.

He advanced on it slowly, examining the small table that was cluttered with coloured paper, with neat handwriting marching boldly across in fine black curves. There was a single rose in a glass soda bottle accompanying the pieces of paper and, with a shaky breath, Harry picked up one of the pages. It was a poem entitled 'I Miss You' by an anonymous author.

Reading it through, Harry felt a smile hesitantly creeping across his face. More poems, one for each page on the table. Harry read them all through, before he slipped them into his bag. There was a small folded card beneath the rose, and he picked it up. It said, simply: Hart Hall, Section Common Room. Picking up the soda bottle, and smelling the rose, Harry turned and exited the art room, a giddy bounce in his step.

* * *

Neville took a deep breath and began to recite his poem. They were seated at a booth in the restaurant that Dean had recommended. Neville had been happy to find that it was very secluded and quiet, though the restaurant was certainly filled. He was relieved that he had made a reservation, and Ginny had seemed flattered, which was encouraging. As they waited for their meal to arrive, Neville took her hands in his and just started to say his poem. It wasn't what he'd had planned. He had wanted to wait until they were walking through the forest or something a bit more romantic that this, but it just came to him. 

When he was finished, there were tears in her eyes and she was smiling at him. In response, Ginny recited the poem called 'Flowers' by Wendy Cope, and Neville had to blush shamelessly because it was pretty much exactly what he had done when he had come to Ginny's residence to bring her out. When she had finished, she shifted around the table to sit beside him, resting her head on his shoulders. "Neville?" she asked after a moment.

"Y-yes?"

"Don't ever change," she said simply, and kissed his cheek causing him to blush profusely once again.

* * *

"Draco!" Harry called as he came bounding into the section's common room. There was no one there, and he looked around, a frown of confusion on his face before he caught sight of the vase on the window sill. 

There were, once again, pieces of paper arranged around the vase. As Harry walked over to it, he grinned. It was the exact arrangement he had recommended to Ron several days before. His best friend must have been passing on hints to his boyfriend. The thought made Harry feel a rush of appreciation for Ron and his other close friends. He grinned at the meaning behind each flower and picked up one of the pieces of paper. More poems. The first one he read was by Lord Byron, entitled 'Stanzas for Music'.

As Harry read the various poems, he felt himself feeling lighter and lighter and he couldn't keep a smile from his face. Finally, after placing these poems into his bag, he reached for the folded card. Bedroom. It said, rather abruptly, and Harry's breath caught and he turned his head to look at his bedroom door.

Suddenly he found it very difficult to breathe.

* * *

Parvati Patil shook her head emphatically and rolled her eyes. "That can't be though," she said. "You can't possibly say that FGM is unconscionable because it's a part of their culture! Who are you to say what's right or wrong? It's their culture!" 

"It's a violation of human rights!" Hermione disagreed as they walked.

"What human rights? Those were made by Western states! We can't impose our beliefs on their culture, that would be corrupting their culture!" Parvati said, Padma, Parvati's sister, shook her head as she listened to her two friends bickering. They had just come from philosophy class and the debate they had staged there had obviously sparked their interest.

"So then, we shouldn't ever travel, and exportation should be banned and people should be left to starve in their own countries if their out of supplies or suffer from a disaster because under your theorizing, any interaction would be corrupting another culture!"

"No, if people are dying ..." Parvati edged.

"So you draw the line at dead? So, you're now saying that everyone has a basic human right to live?" Hermione asked.

"No, I just - who's that?" They stopped walking and Hermione turned to face where her friend was pointing.

"Ron?" she asked, smiling suddenly. "I'll see you later, okay?" she asked, Parvati and Padma both nodded and waved, glancing over their shoulders to watch their friend rush over to a strange red headed boy who they had never seen before. "What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, though she was grinning.

"Hi, Happy Valentine's Day," Ron greeted, offering a single bright orchid and a small box of pencils with cheesy love sayings on them. Hermione grinned and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank-you," she said. "How long can you stay?"

"The weekend," Ron said with a grin.

"Really? Or is it, you can stay the full weekend if you forget your homework and leave it for the last minute."

"Hermione, it's Valentine's Day. Work is the furthest thing from my mind. 'Specially now that I've gotten here."

She smiled widely and pulled him in for a welcoming kiss. "Oh, alright then," she huffed. "But I fully intend to harass you about work later."

* * *

As Harry pushed the door to his bedroom open, he gasped. There were flowers everywhere. Roses of varying colours, and lavender, his favourite flower, and his room was permeated with their fresh scent. 

The lights were dim, and as he stepped further into the room, he noticed Draco, who was sitting on Harry's lambs wool blanket.

"Why do I love you?" Draco began, and Harry stepped further into the room, watching Draco cautiously.

"I love you,

Not only for what you are,

But for what I am

When I am with you.

I love you

Not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what

You are making of me.

I love you

For ignoring the possibilities

Of the fool in me

And for laying firm hold

Of the possibilities for good.

Why do I love you?

I love you

For closing your eyes

To the discords -

And for adding to the music in me

By worshipful listening.

I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern

But a temple;

And out of the words

Of my every day

Not a reproach

But a song.

I love you

Because you have done

More than any creed

To make me happy.

You have done it

Without words,

Without touch,

Without a sign.

You have done it

Just by being yourself.

After all

Perhaps that is what

Love means." (1)

Harry sighed and shut the door quietly, taking another step forward. "Harry," Draco ventured. "I wanted to apologize for being an enormous prat. There isn't an excuse for it. I didn't mean to hurt you, I was just really frustrated, and it was wrong of me to take it out on you because it had nothing to do with you." Harry took another step forward towards the blanket, standing just on the edge of it.

Draco shifted up onto his knees. "I'm not proposing or anything," he said, nervously, as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. "But I wanted to give you this, as a promise I'll always love you and I'll be there for you, no matter what." Gently, Draco opened the lid of the box and turned it to face Harry. Harry looked a bit dazed and dropped down onto his knees, now right in front of Draco.

It was a simple gold ring, but as Harry lifted it, he realized that it was on a chain so that he could wear it as a necklace. Dropping it onto his palm, he examined it more closely. On the inside there was an inscription that read: A Ma Vie De Coer Entier. Harry looked up at Draco, fighting the lump in his throat as he translated the inscription in his head: You have my whole heart for my whole life. "Thank-you," he whispered, and Draco shifted forward hesitantly.

Knowing what he was suggesting, Harry offered the necklace to him and allowed Draco to fasten it around his neck before he pulled his lover in for a tight embrace. Harry was aware that he was shivering, though he knew it wasn't from the cold. "Don't ever do that to me again," he scolded quietly. "Talk to me before you get to that point, promise me?"

"I promise," Draco agreed, whispering quietly into Harry's ear and smiling at the shiver that ran through his lover. "I'm so sorry."

"And don't think you can buy my forgiveness with romance," Harry teased with an impish grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Draco said. They looked at each other for a moment, just getting lost in each other's eyes until, like magnets, they moved as one and their lips touched, soft at first, and then, as their heartbeats became more frantic, and their hands more teasing, Draco's tongue ran gently over Harry's bottom lip and Harry let his mouth open, accepting the intruder willingly.

Harry settled back onto the soft blanket and tugged Draco down. When they parted for air, Harry curled into his lover, one hand running through Draco's hair, mirroring Draco's own movements, and his other hand clasping his gift. Harry closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

TBC 

Hello! I hope nobody found this chapter too corny, I couldn't help it, the boys wouldn't have it any other way. I know in the teaser in the last chapter I mentioned something about a winter cold. And I even had a reviewer who guessed EXACTLY what I meant by that. But, I have laid out exactly what's going to happen in each of the upcoming chapters (there are three more until the end!) And in the interest of keeping everything around the same length I had to move it to the next chapter. So, yes, someone will be getting themselves sick soon. I promise.

Sorry about the love poetry, if some of you found it too much or something, I couldn't help it. These are some of my favourites and I had to include them somehow! If anyone wants a full copy of the poems which were just referenced you can email me and I'll send them to you.

NOTE: I got a review from a reviewer that was disappointed with the music that I chose for this fic. First, I want to thank this reviewer for giving me the site to where I can find some more complicated pieces, I promise to use it for the sequel. Next, I would like to explain how the music that's here got here. I didn't realize that this fic would actually tap a body of readers who are competent musicians. A lot of people noticed that I've refrained from using a lot of musical terms and I did this because I wanted people to understand what was going on, irregardless of whether they were musicians or not. The music I chose really isn't what you'd expect a child prodigy to play but I chose it because it really fit the mood of the section I was writing, and also because a lot of people would be familiar with it. I mean, the Moonlight Sonata, though simple, is well-known. So, that was my reasoning, but I definitely WILL look into choosing some more complicated pieces for the sequel (unfortunately I already have the pieces that are to appear in the remaining chapters chosen).... And thanks again to Moi!

This chapter is dedicated to SILVER LADY. Thank-you so much for your review. I'm really happy to hear that you've picked the violin back up. I had a similar experience with cello. I started playing when I was five, and at my school (outside of lessons) I was always skipped over and that was incredibly discouraging. But, after a while of ignoring my own little Susser, I realized that it was incredibly silly of me to be sulking like that, because whenever I played it was always so energizing and such a release so I picked it back up and haven't turned my back on him since. Which is, in a way, how this fic got started because it was the first time I couldn't play for an extended period of time and I was going stir-crazy! Thanks so much for the review, again, and good luck with your violin work! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

* * *

TEASER: 

Trouble in Paradise

Harry gets taken out for a comfort dinner

Winter Cold (Really. I mean it this time. Honest!)

* * *

1. 'Why Do I Love You?' by Roy Croft 


	11. Something Sinful

* * *

Please respect the **warning**. There is mild lime content that could be considered restricted in this section. If you are squeamish or simply don't want to read it, then avoid the section. Thank-you. Enjoy -

* * *

Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers 

Gold-Snitcher

* * *

Chapter 11: Something Sinful (Like a Kiss)

* * *

It felt as if his fingers were dancing, and he revelled in their strange tango. He didn't even open his eyes to see the music, simply leaned into the sounds and let it carry him away. The notes flowed through him like water and savoured the sensation. If there was one thing that he liked most about Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu, it was the quick change from frantic but buoyant trips of notes to the slow and simple dance. 

Either way, to Draco, it was blessed release.

He felt as if he were sinking into it and being lifted up. Felt relaxed and invigorated and the wonderful paradoxes made him smile as he leaned into another run. Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so liberated as he played, but he also couldn't remember the last time he had felt so amazingly happy with his life, so this newfound understanding of music, and the strange connection between his own emotions and state of mind and the music he was producing didn't surprise him.

He thought of warm things. Days spent in the summer sun, laughter, chocolate kisses and satin skin. It made him smile once more, thinking about Harry. He almost wished that his boyfriend would find him there, but he knew Harry was working on an art project.

As the music came to a close, Draco sat back on the bench and found that he was grinning madly at the music, and he couldn't stop. He tried to school his features, but it didn't work.

Instead, he rolled his eyes and let into the piano again, sinking in to another song and feeling the strange electric calm come over him again.

* * *

"Harry, you know perfectly well that she doesn't mean it like that!" Luna scolded and Harry rolled his eyes. They had just come from Drama where they had to perform monologues. One of the girls in their class had had a great deal of difficulty in understanding the subtext within Harry's monologue, and her critique of his performance had sent the dark haired boy on a rant of her shallowness and stupidity, much to Luna's amusement. 

"Maybe I should just hit her upside the head with the text! Maybe that will help her damn comprehension!" Harry snarled.

"Oh, Harry," Luna scolded as she placed a placating hand on his shoulder. "I know it's frustrating but don't you think you're getting a bit extreme? It was just one student's rather idiotic comment." She tilted her head close to him, blinking wide eyes as him. She grinned when she noticed that Harry was smiling broadly, an expression that was so full of happiness that it made her hold her breath for a moment.

Another second, and she realized that the smile was not for her benefit at all.

"Draco!" Harry called when the blond boy had come close enough to call to. The expression on Harry's face showed that any further thoughts of irritating critiques in drama class had completely flown from his mind. Draco turned and grinned back, waving a hand and changing direction. "Are you heading for lunch?"

"Of course. Hello, Luna," Draco greeted, simply because Harry would probably have been angry if he had just ignored her.

"Draco," she greeted coolly. Draco tried to take Harry's bag from his shoulder, which Harry fought, claiming that he could carry it perfectly fine himself and was not in the mood for Draco's misplaced chivalry. Which prompted Draco to exploit one of Harry's secret weaknesses, and when the ebony haired boy was laughing hysterically and begging Draco to stop his tickling, Draco snatched the bag from Harry's shoulders and they headed on towards the Great Hall.

"Come on, Luna! I'm famished!" Harry called, and Luna nodded and even managed a small smile, but inside, her heart was breaking.

* * *

**Explicit Content**

* * *

Draco stumbled back into the common room late Friday night. He'd been forced to do a late practice with professor Snape because the man had decided Draco needed more practice. He hadn't expected the practice to go so late, and in truth, Draco hadn't noticed the time. He had been so wrapped up in playing that time had seemed irrelevant. 

Now that he was back in the dorm, he was fully expecting to find an empty common room. There had been talk at lunch of an expedition into town for dinner and dancing. And yet, as Draco stepped through the doors, he noticed first the music playing, and then the lithe form of his lover who was humming to himself and dancing as he mixed a cup of hot chocolate.

Moving quietly, Draco dropped his messenger bag by the sofa and crept forward, slowly closing the distance between him and Harry. He was about to pounce when Harry's voice split the silence. "Pass me the milk?"

Draco blinked, dumbfounded. How had Harry heard him? The music was on loud and Harry had been absorbed, both in his dancing and in making the hot chocolate. Laughing to himself, Draco opened the small fridge and pulled out the milk, placing it in the awaiting hand. "I wanted to surprise you," he said.

"You did," Harry answered, turning around. Draco caught a glimpse of Harry's growing smile before the dark haired boy pulled him in for a long kiss. "How was practice?" Harry asked when they finally parted.

"Fine. Wonderful," Draco corrected. "He's given me an entire bag crammed with music so that I can pick an appropriate piece for the concert."

"He does like to plan ahead, doesn't he?" Harry asked since it was only the end of February. Draco responded with a noncommital grunt as his mouth was better occupied, tasting the pale flesh that Harry's unbuttoned collar had left exposed. "Stop that, I'm in the middle of having my hot chocolate," Harry scolded, though he made no move to wriggle away.

"Dance with me," Draco requested suddenly when he processed the fact that the song had changed, and a particularly good song for bumping and grinding had come on to the radio.

"What?" Harry asked. "To this?" He sounded surprised. "I can't dance to this kind of stuff. I'm strictly swing or ballroom, or slow dances, because those don't require much."

"If you can dance swing and you can dance ballroom, and you don't mind the close contact of slow dances, then you'll have no problem with this," Draco said, carefully removing the mug from his boyfriend's hands before tightening his grip around Harry's waist and pulling him into a clear spot, away from the sitting area and the table. "Stay close, the trick is to forget that there's anyone watching."

"There isn't anyone watching," Harry pointed out, smiling faintly as Draco moved slowly to stand behind him, but without relinquishing his grip on Harry's waist.

"Then it should be easy," Draco retorted beginning to move to the beat.

Harry tried to take his cues from Draco, whose movements he could feel against his back. It was awkward, and Harry thought, it was also embarrassing. Even if he wasn't moving quite right, it was more than obvious what Draco's hips moving against his arse and the roving hands all were supposed to mimic.

"Close you eyes," Draco ordered when it became quite clear that Harry wasn't relaxing into the music and was still holding himself slightly away from Draco. "Just forget about everything and go by what you feel."

Harry obediently let his eyes close. He was left in the dark with the throbbing pulse of the music and the feel of Draco moving against his back. It was quite erotic, and for a moment, Harry let himself forget everything except the incredible heat of it all, building in him and pressing at the back of him. And it felt like there was some wild, dark thing that was coming alive in him and he knew - he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it, that it would get out. And Harry simply didn't care.

"That's right," he could hear Draco whispering, his voice sounding rough at the edges. "Move your hips. That's - _God_ -" Draco said, because Harry _was_ moving his hips, and then Harry became a wild thing, and Draco couldn't not breathe-in the scent of him, couldn't stop himself from nibbling on the back of the slender neck. Didn't know why he should restrain himself.

The song ended, but they didn't stop. Draco was painfully aroused and he pressed closer to Harry's back. He let his hands roam over his lover's torso, bumping over the nipples that he could feel despite the shirt, and then winding down to brush against Harry's own erection. It was crazy, what they did to each other, the effects they had on the other, and every time, every fucking time, Draco was amazed by it.

It stopped being about dancing. If Draco were honest with himself, it hadn't been about dancing for some time. Harry still kept the rhythm, kept moving, and Draco followed it, pressing against the boy's back, relishing the feel as Harry moved his hips from side to side, brushing against Draco, pressing against his groin, and Draco kept his hands moving over Harry's body, and nipped at the boy's ears, which, he had found, were hubs of sensation for the boy. Harry relaxed even more to the music, draping his arm back casually to hold the back of Draco's neck, keeping him close.

In a sudden and startled gasp, Draco came and the feel of it, the simple thought of it, that he could have that affect on his boyfriend made Harry follow him over the edge. They stood still, afterwards. Draco still holding him close, and they shivered and tried to catch their breath. "That's - how you dance to that kind of music," Draco said, voice sounding a bit shaky, though he was trying to use his normal drawl.

"Let's -" Harry tried, and was cut off when he was forced to take a gasp of air. "Never do that again -" he said, feeling incredibly embarrassed about the entire thing. He wondered if people really did that in public.

Draco barked out a laugh and turned Harry around, kissing his forehead and brushing the sweat dampened hair away from his face. "Lets do that more often," he corrected. Harry turned a deeper crimson and Draco laughed again, kissing the top of the boy's tousled head.

* * *

**End of Explicit Content**

* * *

Monday after classes, Harry jogged through the hallways of the art floor and slid to a halt just inside of Sirius' class room. He was a bit out of breath as he'd come from his private cello session which had been in the basement on the other side of the building. Running a hand through his tousled hair, Harry took a deep breath and dropped his bag into a chair as he made his way over to his uncle. "Sorry," he said right off but Sirius waved a dismissive hand.

"I didn't expect you'd be any earlier. Pereskew tends to forget about schedules, and whenever you get an instrument in your hands I know better than to expect you to be in a little place I call reality."

Harry grinned at him and moved over to his side, helping to stow away the blocks of clay that had been unused, wrapping them appropriately so that they wouldn't dry out. "I remember, when I was little, when I was over at your house. I was watching you carve that soap stone piece of the unicorn. I remember thinking something similar. That you weren't really thinking about anything rational - I mean, of this world. You were just - someplace else."

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair and locked the supply cupboard. He turned to tidy up his desk as Harry brought out the painting he'd come to finish up. "The mark of a true artist. When you get to a point where you become so involved in what you're doing, it doesn't even occur to you that there is anything else beyond where you are - wherever you find yourself, which is generally quite a far distance from the 'real world'. I suppose it's weird for other people, but if you're friends are all prone to similar experiences then it seems only natural."

Harry set his brushes out carefully and stared at them. "You're thinking about my parents, aren't you?" he asked after a moment. He, too, had enjoyed watching his mother at the piano, or his father at his typewriter. When he had been older, around ten years of age, it had always fascinated him to find the similarities between the look of intense concentration with a gleam of excitement that his father had always had when he knew absolutely what was going to happen to his characters next, and his mother's quiet look as she played - revelled in the music she made. Sometimes, when he had found himself wondering how people as different as his mother and father could ever get together and form such a perfect couple, he would fall back on that thought - they looked the same when they ventured into that 'other world' as Sirius called it.

"They were awfully prone to trips into their own little worlds, weren't they?" Sirius asked fondly. Harry smiled sadly, brush poised just above his canvas as he remembered some of the many times he had seen his parents 'somewhere else'. "Especially your mother. James could always step into business and find it just as fascinating, but Lily could never be parted from her music."

They worked in silence for a bit, simply remembering. It was painful, for Harry at least, as he always tried to push it out of his head. For him, the memories of his family were tied in with the sharp screech of tires, and the breaking of glass and the heat of a fire. A sense of guilt, even if his survivor's guilt had been treated. And then, the memories were also tied into 'what ifs?' and Harry was always worried about the answers to his 'what ifs'.

"Do you think?" he ventured, after a moment, stopping his painting again to glance at his uncle. "That they'd be proud of me? I mean - I just -" he tried to back out of the question, he'd phrased it stupidly, but Sirius simply turned to him with a shocked expression.

"Are you serious? Harry, of course James and Lily would be proud of you. They always were."

"No, I mean, I know that but - I mean, well." He tried to turn back to his painting, to pretend he'd never asked something so silly. "It's just - That whole thing with Riddle - I wasn't - well, we know how that went - and then with Draco ... would they - I mean -" He was an idiot, he decided. Could he have asked it in an even more ridiculous way? But Sirius didn't seem to find it stupid at all, when Harry finally raised his eyes to take a fleeting glimpse at his uncle's face, he noticed that Sirius had a strange expression, loving and sad and a bit wistful.

"Harry, you handled Riddle very well. You asked for help when you needed it, and you were strong." Harry blushed. He hadn't felt strong - still didn't. He often wished he'd had the guts to simply slug Riddle right back. "And do you really think either James or Lily would have thought any less of you because you loved Draco?" Harry wondered, it had troubled him quite a bit, actually. Because although he could never imagine his parents censuring him for who he loved, it still nagged him. After all, he'd heard about other people's parents who'd thrown them out of the house for similar things. "You know perfectly well that they wouldn't have loved you any less." Harry grinned. Having it confirmed for him, having his vague worries completely obliterated, was brilliant. "Come here," Sirius said, pulling Harry into a hug. "There's no way anyone could be anything other than completely proud of you, Harry," he said, his voice muffled by Harry's hair. It made the young man clutch tighter to his uncle. "And if it means anything, I'm very proud of you."

Harry tried to pretend he wasn't crying, but it was all so much. He tightened his hold around his uncle. "It means everything to me," he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse. "Thank-you," he said.

Breaking apart, Sirius ruffled the ebony hair once more. "Now, get back," he ordered, Harry mock-saluted, well used to Sirius' tendency to avoid touchy-feely moments. Yet still, Harry thought as he picked up his paintbrush, his uncle always knew when Harry really needed to be reassured.

* * *

"Draco!" Basil Bronthewait called on Tuesday evening, as he spotted the blond haired Adonis walking through the halls, obviously heading towards the Great Hall. "Draco Malfoy!" he called again, and this time the blond turned and acknowledged him, turning from his course down the hall and walking over. 

"Basil," Draco greeted. "What's up?" he asked. Basil shared Draco's theory class and they had often been paired together for certain assignments. As such, they had arrived at a sort of acceptance of each other, for Draco at least. Basil wasn't a friend, as Draco was very selective with the people he included under that title, but Basil was pleasant, intelligent and a hard worker. All in all, Draco didn't mind him.

But for Basil, Draco was his latest, and most furious crush. When he had first seen the boy at the start of the year, he had felt immediate attraction. He had been horribly disappointed when Draco had ended up dating Potter, but Basil had learned something over his years at the school, and that was that high school romances were fleeting, and flexible.

"Nothing's up, I just wanted to talk to you. Anyway, you look as if you're worried about something?" Basil prompted.

"Not worried," Draco dismissed easily. "I was supposed to meet Harry after class, is all, and I can't find him. I wondered if he went to dinner already." In truth, Draco was a bit worried. It wasn't like Harry to forget to meet him somewhere, even if the arrangement had been made quite casually, a simple agreement to meet back at res and head to meal hall together. Still, Draco knew enough about Harry's history at the school and had learned to always be a bit on guard when it came to his boyfriend's lateness or absence.

"I'm sure he's already gone to the Great Hall," Basil dismissed, gritting his teeth slightly and covering it with a tight smile.

"I know. I'm going to head over there," Draco said, already turning to go.

"Wait!" Basil called. "Can I ask you something?" Draco turned around, one slender eyebrow raised in question.

* * *

"Are you coming to dinner?" Luna asked as she spotted Harry hurrying through the hallway. 

"Yeah," he said, a bit breathlessly as he slowed down to walk with her.

"What's wrong?" she questioned.

"Nothing. Well, I told Draco I'd meet him back at res to head to dinner together, but Pereskew kept me late for practice and then I ran into Snape, and when I got to res, Draco wasn't there."

Luna fought the sad frown that wanted to spread over her face and instead raised a hand and patted his arm. "He's probably gone to the Great Hall looking for you. I'm sure it's nothing."

"I know," Harry said, feeling a bit silly. "Anyway, have you started working on your director's project yet?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I got stuck with Ubu Roi (1)! It's so crude!"

"I found it quite funny," Harry said, though he was snickering at her predicament.

"And yes, I did start on it. I have costumes planned and everything!" Luna said and launched into a description of her plans. As they rounded the corner, nearing the Great Hall, Harry noticed a familiar figure standing off to the side in one of the corners. A smile spread across his face and he opened his mouth to call until what he was seeing finally processed and Harry stopped walking and simply stared.

Draco, his Draco, was standing in a corner with another boy, whom Harry couldn't see enough of to identify. Draco was standing with the boy pressed against the wall and they were kissing. Open mouth. Hot and heavy.

"Oh my god," Harry gasped quietly and Luna, who had also been watching the scene, turned to him.

"Harry?" she asked quietly, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. "If you want to talk ..."

"No," Harry breathed softly. And then, in a stronger voice, "No, I don't want to talk. Sorry, Luna. I'm not that hungry. I'm -" his voice stalled for a moment. "I'm maybe going to go and take a nap or something." Dazed, Harry turned around and stumbled down the hall, not knowing where his feet were taking him.

Luna watched him go with an odd twist of hope in her chest which she tried to quell. Taking a calming breath, she hurried down the hall towards the Great Hall.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Draco yelled as he broke away from Basil and took several steps back. 

"It was a kiss," Basil answered coyly.

"I meant, what the hell did you think you were doing?" Draco reiterated. "I don't know if you're aware, but I'm dating someone. I'm dating Harry Potter, and I'm more than happy with that."

"I'm simply presenting you with another option," Basil said. "A better one, in my opinion." Draco was snarling and so wanted to lash out and give the boy a good solid punch.

Draco glared at Basil.

Basil batted his eyelashes coyly at Draco.

Finally, deciding that there was no reason not to, Draco let his fist fly.

* * *

"They were kissing?" Sirius asked, slightly dumbfounded and Harry simply nodded. The dark haired boy was valiantly trying to control his tears, but near the end of his recount, he hand begun to cry. 

Sirius had to admit he was more than a little confused. Draco had not seemed the type of boy to do something like this, but Harry would never lie, and there was no denying that his nephew was quite upset. "Hey, shh," Sirius soothed, shifting over and pulling Harry into a hug, rocking him slightly.

"Have you had dinner, Guppy?" he asked after Harry had settled down a little. Harry sniffled and shook his head. "Well, I'm going to take you out. You need a break."

"I don't have my coat," Harry mumbled as he sat back, brushing his tears away with his shirt sleeve.

"If we hurry, we can get over to res and get it before anyone gets back from dinner. And if someone does corner you, well, I'll cause a distraction and you run for it." Harry smiled a little, though it was small and it seemed half-hearted. Sirius ruffled his nephew's hair and, with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, they headed through the empty halls, heading for Hart House.

* * *

"Draco, what's up?" Ron asked as Draco walked into the Great Hall. The blond looked quite angry, and Ron had noticed he was flexing his right hand. 

"Nothing," Draco snapped.

"Right," Ron said. "I've heard that before." When Draco simply glared at him, Ron shrugged and shook his head. "Where's Harry?" he asked instead, wondering if this 'nothing' had something to do with his best friend.

"I don't know," Draco said, and he sounded a bit worried, which made Ron a bit more relaxed. After all, if Draco could be openly worried about Harry, then that meant that the 'nothing' had nothing to do with Harry.

"Well, I'm sure he'll turn up," Seamus suggested as he slurped down a noodle.

"Yeah," Draco said, and poked at his meal. Somehow he didn't feel at all hungry.

* * *

"Harry, you can't beat yourself up about it. Whatever happened was Draco's own decision and it doesn't mean a thing about you. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, Guppy, but I honestly believed that he was different." Sirius was quite proud of himself. He was fuming. He was seething. He wanted to run off and whoop that tow-headed tart into the next century for hurting his nephew like this, but Sirius knew that the last thing Harry needed was anger, and he was managing to control himself. 

"It just doesn't seem like him," Harry said, not really listening to his uncle's placating words, just happy that they were being said. He and Sirius had gone off school property and were currently seated at a small Thai food place and having a pleasantly quiet and relaxed meal. "I mean, it's not his style, to be going around and casually snogging people in the hallway ... well ... other people," Harry corrected, when he remembered that Draco had, just that morning, had Harry in a similar position as they had headed towards their English class.

"Sometimes people are very talented at hiding things like that," Sirius said, shrugging it off.

"I'm being an idiot, aren't I?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'm handling this all wrong," he amended.

"Harry, you're doing wonderfully. The whole point of my taking you out for dinner was so that you could get some time to think clearly. Your first decision, to come to me, was right. You came to someone who understands you and can support you and maybe, offer a bit of advice. But at the very least, Harry, I can be a sounding block. The important thing is to do something to clear your head so that, when you decide what it is you want to do, you know it's because it's what feels right, and it's not simply your anger or your hurt talking."

"Yeah. But I mean, I can't just slink away and be hurt by this," Harry said. "It's not right. What happened - what I saw - it's not right. Either Draco's not the person I thought he was, or something really weird happened today and I deserve to know which one it is. I deserve to know what the hell happened, and he deserves to know why I'm dumping him," Harry said, with more conviction than he felt. He still wasn't ready to admit that what he'd seen was real. He wasn't ready to consider what he would do if he had Draco pegged all wrong, and certainly, Harry wasn't thinking about dumping anyone, but he deserved to know. He was sick of people pushing him around and not thinking that he'd push back.

"I'm so very proud of you, Harry," Sirius said softly. He was surprised with the level of maturity Harry had shown. Certainly he had cried and been upset. But never had he considered vengeance on his boyfriend, and after his initial shock, Harry had calmed right down and began to think of things logically.

"Thanks, Siri," Harry answered, a small smile on his face. "I think I'm ready to go back now."

* * *

"Harry!" Blaise greeted as the ebony haired boy stepped into the common room. Everyone's head lifted and they turned to face him. 

"Where've you been, mate?" Ron asked, Harry only smiled tightly at them and looked at Draco.

"Can I speak with you?" he asked, and Draco frowned before he nodded. He stood quickly and followed the dark haired boy into Harry's bedroom. He couldn't help but notice that Harry not only shut the door, but he sat on his desk chair, instead of sharing the bed with Draco as they usually did.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"I just wanted to ask if there was anything you wanted to tell me?" Harry said. He winced as soon as he said it. It was such a cliche and condescending thing to ask. Yet, for all the scenarios that Harry had run-through on his way back to school, he had somehow not taken into account what it would be like to actually speak to Draco. Everything always sounded good when it was in his head and he could control the dialogue, including Draco's reactions.

"No," Draco replied after a moment. "Nothing. Harry, what's wrong? Where've you been?"

"I saw you, in the hall," Harry said, becoming increasingly embarrassed with the way he was speaking, like the dialogue of some cheap movie where the heroine finds her lover cheating. Harry mentally kicked himself for comparing himself to the heroine. "I saw you kissing him," Harry added. He wished he knew exactly who it was who Draco had been kissing, but he hadn't stayed to find out. He hoped Draco wouldn't continue to play dumb.

"You - you saw?" Draco asked.

"I want to knew, Draco. I want to know what the fuck was going on." _Please don't let me have been wrong about you. Please. Please. Please. Please. _

"Harry - you saw?" he seemed a bit dazed, then, suddenly, something seemed to click into place. "If you saw then what the hell are accusing me of? If you saw, you should know."

"Know?" Harry asked, surprised. "So, that was how you were planning on telling me that you were using me? That was how you planned our breaking up?"

"Breaking up?" Draco asked. "What the hell are you on about?"

"I'm not going to be option B on your flavour of the month menu, Draco. I don't know what game you're playing, but I won't be a part of it." It was devastating, there was no other word for it. Harry had allowed himself to believe in everything Draco had told him. Had allowed himself to believe that Draco actually loved him, and that their relationship was real, was wonderful, even if there were hard times in it. "I can't believe I so misjudged you," Harry admitted in a whisper. He felt his heart breaking.

"Misjudged me? What makes you think you misjudged me? What would you rather I had done? Thanked him? And what are you talking about, 'flavour of the month'?" Draco was outraged, confused and wondering why Harry was sitting, arms wrapped around his knees and feet braced on his chair looking absolutely defeated. And then, in a flash of understanding, it dawned on him. "Wait, what did you see?"

"_What did I see_? I saw you _snogging_ some bloke in the bloody hallway. I saw you _kissing_ someone - and -" he stopped, aware that he was getting too emotional. "So what, Draco. You tell me what kind of conclusion I should draw from that."

"You saw me kissing Basil?"

"Yes," Harry said, losing his patience. He stood up from his chair and began pacing.

"But you didn't actually think I wanted to kiss him ... did you?" Draco asked.

"Well it certainly _looked_ as if you did."

"No - no no no no. Harry, listen to me. I didn't mean to. I was on my way to the Great Hall because I thought you might have gone there. Basil stopped me, he said he wanted to ask me a question, and then he just launched himself at me. He pulled me into the kiss."

"You had him pressed against the bloody wall," Harry said disbelievingly, trying not to let his hopes rise.

"He leaned up against it, and his arms were around my bloody head. I was bloody shocked! Who the hell wouldn't be? But then I pulled away!"

"You pulled away?" Harry asked, still disbelieving.

Draco was off the bed now, moving towards Harry with a desperate look in his eyes. "Harry, I didn't kiss him. He said he was 'presenting me with another option' and I clocked him. It was an accident. Well - I mean ... I didn't do it intentionally. And I'm sorry, if that helps, but there wasn't anything I could do."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, and closed his eyes. It was a relief to hear that he had not been wrong after all. That Draco hadn't been cheating on him, that it was still possible that Draco had meant everything he had said. It was such a relief that Harry felt a bit dizzy and settled for just gripping tighter to the blond.

"Okay," Harry said after he had calmed down. "I believe you." He disentangled himself from Draco, and took a step back. "But I have something else to ask you."

Draco nodded, looking at Harry hesitatingly. "What?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me? I mean, it didn't seem like you were going to."

"No," Draco admitted. "I wasn't planning on it." He looked a bit sheepish and Harry bit his lip. This was a crucial moment, because whether it had been an accident or not, Harry deserved to be told about it, or else it was as good as cheating, at least in his mind. "I guess - I just didn't want to worry you. I took care of it."

Harry huffed and clenched his fists before he let them relax again. With a sigh, he dragged Draco over to the bed and sat facing him, a stern expression on his features. "Remember when McLain attacked me in the halls. When I was by myself and I punched him?" When Draco nodded, a look of amusement on his face, Harry continued. "I didn't want to tell anyone. I was partially embarrassed, but also, I figured, I'd taken care of it, so it was no big deal."

"It _was_ a big deal, Harry. He _attacked_ you!"

Harry cut off the blond's rant. "So is this! Don't you see? I didn't _want_ to talk about it, but I knew you had a right to know, and I _told_ you. I told you, Draco. What kind of relationship do you want, because, if you want us to be honest with each other, that means confiding things, and it goes _both_ ways."

Draco avoided Harry's eyes for a bit before he nodded. "I'm not used to this, is all," he explained.

Harry snorted derisively. "And you think I have such practice?" They smiled at each other, but then Harry sobered. "It means a lot to me, Draco. Trust means a lot. If I can't count on you to come to me and talk, then I can't trust you - not really."

"Okay, Harry," Draco said. "I will. I promise."

* * *

"Hey," Ron greeted. It was the middle of the night, but the redhead had been waiting patiently, knowing that, at some point, the person who he was waiting for would emerge. 

"You've been waiting for me?" Harry asked, feeling guilty.

"I know something happened and I wanted to make sure you were okay," Ron said, he was glad that the common room was dark because Harry wouldn't be able to see his blush, unfortunately, knowing each as well as they did, Harry would probably still know the blush was there. "Do you want some hot chocolate or something?"

"Sure," Harry said as he settled onto the couch. "We cleared it up," Harry explained.

"You and Draco?" Ron asked as he poured the boiling water into the two mugs and plunked a spoon into each, stirring twice before picking them both up and bringing them over to the sofa.

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I saw him and Basil snogging on my way to the Great Hall," Harry said flippantly. He knew he should have phrased it better, knew Ron's temper and how he was quick to jump to the defence of his friend but, at this point, Harry didn't care. He'd just woken up from another of his usual nightmares and hadn't really adjusted yet.

"He _what_?" Ron cried.

"Shh," Harry scolded, motioning for his friend to keep his voice down. "It's nothing. Well, that's not true, it was something. Apparently, Basil Bronthewait has an opinion on who exactly Draco should be with."

"And, obviously, you weren't what he had in mind?" Ron asked, after he'd calmed down, realizing that, whatever had happened, obviously Harry was no longer upset about it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was fine. We just seem to be having a lot of these kinds of tiffs. But it's worked out." Ron nodded, remembering Harry's recount of Valentine's Day. Ron had been amused when Harry had brushed the incident aside so easily, saying that relationships needed conflict in order to keep them interesting and in order to make sure that both of the people in the relationship grew and matured.

They sipped on their hot chocolate in silence, Ron watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. Harry's eyes were dropping a bit, and he was clearly tired, and yet, here he was, obviously unable, or unwilling, to sleep. "Was it nightmares?" Ron asked, his quiet voice splitting the silence.

"The usual," Harry dismissed. "They don't come as often anymore. I think the stress of the day must have brought it up. But it's fine."

Ron nodded in understanding. They returned to sipping their drinks in the silence. "I worry about you, you know," Ron admitted. It was easier to say such things to the darkness, rather than directly to Harry in broad daylight. The darkness let him keep the illusion that he was alone, and that nobody would hear the concern in his voice and mock him for it.

"I know, Ron. But I'm okay now." It was a relief that, unlike the other times when Harry had made claims to exactly that, this time he sounded sincere.

Harry rose and put his cup away. Ron was fairly certain that his friend had already returned to bed but then two arms snatched him from behind and his back was pressed solidly against the sofa as Harry hugged him. It wasn't a full hug, as Ron was still seated, and Harry was leaning over the back of the sofa, but it conveyed everything Harry had wanted it to. "Thanks," Harry said again after he had straightened back up and was heading towards his room.

"It's nothing," Ron confessed once Harry's bedroom door had closed. "It's just what friends do."

* * *

Harry had pulled her aside on Saturday as she had made her way to the Great Hall for lunch. She was happy to see him because she had been worried about what had happened between him and Draco after what they had witnessed. 

She asked if everything was okay, but Harry simply smiled tightly and pulled her into a classroom, shutting the door. "Why did you do it, Luna?" Harry asked, after taking a deep breath.

"Do what, Harry?" she asked innocently.

"Make Basil do it? Why would you do something like that? I thought we were friends? I trusted you!" he said, and she was distraught to find that his voice was cracking. Why was he thinking like this?

"Harry, I don't know what you're talking about," she said, cautiously.

"Draco told me. Basil forced the kiss, it was a set up. I know all about it, and I want to know why."

"Harry," she said, moving forward, her hands outstretched as if she were moving towards a panicking animal. "I didn't do anything. I was as shocked to see Basil and Draco as you were."

"Don't lie!" Harry shouted. He hadn't wanted to believe it when Seamus had mentioned the likelihood that Luna was trying to break him and Draco up so that she could have her chance with Harry. But slowly, over the course of the week, after hearing the reasons behind the comment, and the theory being supported by his section mates, including Ron and Draco, Harry had begun running his encounters with Luna over again in his head. "They've been telling me for ages! Telling me that you looked at me - that - that-" he choked on the words and she was aware that she was also crying. They had never been as close as he was with Ron and Blaise and his section mates, but they had known each other since they started at the school and become fast friends. Trusted, familiar, seemingly permanent fixtures in each others lives.

"Who told you?" she asked, feeling betrayed, feeling frightened. She had never wanted to speak to Harry about it. She had been going to great lengths to avoid it since he had started dating Draco.

"Does it matter?" he asked. "Everyone knew! Ron, Seamus, Dean, Blaise, even Neville! Why, Luna? Why would you do something like this?" He was flustered and pacing and running his hands through his already mussed hair.

"Harry, I didn't do anything. I didn't. I swear!"

"They told me!" Harry replied, likely referring, once more, to her looks.

"Yes!" she cried, snapping. "Yes! Does it matter? I do look at you! I can't help it, Harry. I love you!" she nearly screamed. He stopped pacing abruptly and seemed to go quite pale. She thought she should pause and let this, no doubt startling, news sink in, but she was on a role. It felt so good to purge her secret. "I love you and I couldn't help it. Yes, I look at you. And yes, I touch you. The first was an accident. But you were so oblivious, and I couldn't help it. I could flirt and you never picked up on it."

"I did," he said, breathlessly. "I just thought it was because we were so close. You were always - different," he said, and there was a strange quirk in his lips, before it disappeared and his expression darkened.

"I wanted it to be me. You've been so distant since the accident. I don't know what happened to you last year, but it made you into someone else. I wanted to be the one to draw you back. But each time I tried, you only drifted further away." She had stopped crying, now, and was getting control of her voice. "Harry, I don't know what happened with Basil. I don't. I wouldn't ever hurt you." The way she said it, he believed her. "I know that there won't ever be something between us. I won't say that when I saw Basil and - and Draco, that a part of me wasn't hoping that you'd break up because I'd have a chance ... I know it's petty and wrong but you have no idea how it feels to want something that's so close, but just out of reach."

They stood in silence for a moment. And then a strange smile quirked on his lips. "This must be a month for telling me what I don't have a clue about," he muttered, cryptically. "I'm sorry I accused you. It was stupid of me."

"Yes," she said with a small smile. "I'm happy to hear that you and Draco are still together."

"Are you really?" he asked.

"No," she admitted, and there was actual regret in his eyes. "Harry, I'll be alright." He looked at her doubtfully and she had to admit, to herself at least, that she sounded more confident than she felt. He smiled at her, still seeming a bit uneasy, and she knew it was because he felt guilty. She smiled encouragingly at him, and watched as he nodded awkwardly and turned towards the door, taking a step towards it.

"Harry!" she called before he could open the door. He turned and looked at her as she took the steps that separated them. "There's just one other thing," she mumbled and snatched his shoulders, jerking him down so she could press her lips to his.

He tried to pull away, of course, but then there was something in the touch that he realized and understood. That this was the first step in her healing, if it could be called such. He gave her a few moments, and then nudged her back gently, giving her a soft look that broke her heart again. "Sorry," he mumbled, and she smiled and nodded, accepted the many layered apology and watched him go with a wistful gaze.

* * *

Draco woke up on the first day of March with a pounding headache, a stomachache and the feel of every muscle in his body aching. "Figures," he muttered to himself. It was a Friday, and he had been planning on going into town with everyone else. If the way he was feeling right then wasn't a clue, though, it was likely that Draco wasn't going anywhere, except, perhaps, to the common room to mix himself some hot chocolate. That is, if he could bring himself to move. 

"Wakey, wakey," Blaise sing-songed as he barged back into the room with shower kit dangling from one hand and a towel from the other. "This has got to be the first time I've woken up before you! Come on!" Blaise said.

"Blaise," Draco mumbled. "Shut up." He proceeded to bury his head under the pillows. Blaise cackled and proceeded to get dressed, unaware of the agony his friend was suffering.

"Come on, Draco! You'll miss breakfast!" Blaise called as he grabbed his bag and once again pranced out the door.

"What the hell made him so god damned chipper this morning?" Draco asked before closing his eyes, deciding that too much rational thought made his head ache more. He promptly decided to screw getting hot chocolate and closed his eyes.

He opened them again, not too long after, when a soft nock and a familiar voice called his name. He smiled as much as he could as Harry's tousled head poked in through the crack in the door. "Are you still in bed?" Harry asked, as he stepped further into the room. He was in his pyjamas and his hair was chaos, obviously he'd just woken up. "Are you okay?"

"No," Draco whinged. "'M-sick." Harry settled himself on the bed, and Draco was glad that Harry knew better than to jostle the mattress too much. "You should go, you're going to be late for class."

"Doesn't matter. I'll think of some excuse," Harry dismissed as he gently pried the pillow away from Draco's head and pressed a cool hand against the hot forehead. "I think you've got a temperature, I'll be right back." Harry disappeared for a moment only to return moments later with a thermometer. "Here, hold that under your tongue," he instructed.

"Sorry I didn't wake you up," Draco said before Harry slid the thermometer into his mouth and he was silenced.

"Don't be, I had my alarm. And it's how I knew something was up." Harry smiled a little. "How's your stomach?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and Harry remembered the thermometer. "Oh, right. Don't answer that. Okay, do you think you'll be able to handle some tea?" Draco considered it and then nodded. "Hold on." Harry disappeared again.

When he returned, Harry had brought a pot of tea and a tea cup, as well as some crackers and two pieces of toast. "It's best to go easy if you're feeling nauseous," Harry explained. Draco nodded and Harry took back the thermometer. "Fever," Harry announced. "Definitely. Though, not too bad. Here, have some aspirin." Draco accepted the tablets and swallowed them with the help of the tea. "I have to go to class now. Do you think you'll be okay? I'll be back for lunch."

"I'll be fine. I'll just rest or something." Harry kissed his cheek and tucked the covers around him before exiting from the room again. Draco sighed, nibbled on the toast and then promptly went back to sleep.

* * *

"It's a good thing it's a Friday," Harry said as he settled Draco more comfortably on the sofa. He'd kept his words and returned for lunch, bearing a few stolen treats from the Great Hall. Draco, unfortunately, had not felt well enough to ingest them, and so Harry had made some soup instead. 

Now, he was finishing his construction of a bed for Draco on the couch, as Harry had insisted on staying in with him. "You should go out. You need the break," Draco urged one more time. By this point, Draco knew it was futile, Harry was impossibly stubborn, and Draco had never been more aware of it than he was right then. He smirked as Harry ushered him between the covers and then bundled more on top of him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry declared. He popped in a movie and settled himself on the armchair.

"What the hell are you doing over there?" Draco whinged.

"Where should I be?" Harry asked with an amused look. Draco answered by sitting up a bit, looking pointedly at the pile of pillows that had been stuffed behind him to prop him up. Harry rolled his eyes but took the seat, settling some of the pillows onto his lap. Draco grinned and resettled himself.

"What are we watching?" Draco asked as a preview for a film of dubious quality began to play.

"LA Confidential. My uncle always makes me watch it whenever I'm sick. It's a tradition. After that, I prescribe some Shawshank Redemption and then Fantasia."

"Fantasia?" Draco asked with a smile. "Your uncle is weird."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that. Anyway, feel free to pass out at anytime," Harry instructed. "But I intend to wake you for some more tea and aspirins. And also for the hippopotamus ballet because that's my favourite." Draco snuggled into the pillows and made a sound of agreement.

* * *

Draco awoke in stages. 

The first was becoming aware of his uncomfortably high fever and the cold sweat. The sounds in the room returned, seeming louder than they had when he had gone to sleep. Blaise's soft snore, the sound of the breeze in the trees. And, when he had managed to open his eyes, no matter how slightly, he became aware of the fact that there was a shadow by his bed that hadn't been there before. And then, sudden awareness of something cool on his forehead.

He raised a hand to touch his forehead and was greeted by a damp cloth. He smiled to himself and glanced at the shadow, squinting slightly until he could make out Harry, fast asleep and curled uncomfortably on Draco's desk chair which had been pulled close to the bed. "Harry," he called, because, at the very least, Harry should relocate to a more comfortable position, preferably right beside Draco on the bed.

"You're awake?" Harry asked, sounding groggy and unwilling to make a full retreat from sleep. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," Draco answered honestly. "But thanks for this. I have a feeling I could be worse," he touched the edge of the cool compress, then watched as Harry carefully picked it up and soaked it in a bowl that had been set by the night stand, then he wrung the cloth out before setting it back on Draco's forehead, the compress cool once more. "How long have you been here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry answered dismissively. Draco knew that the only time Harry couldn't sleep was when he was having nightmares, but he didn't press his lover. "I came to check on you and you were burning up. Not that I could check properly, but it seemed your fever was higher."

"Mm," Draco agreed.

"It's been getting worse. If you haven't improved by tomorrow then I'm skiving off classes and taking you to the doctor."

"Just take me to Pomfrey," Draco said, referring to the school nurse.

"No, I think not," Harry said with conviction. "She'll fuss, over prescribe things and then lock you away in the hospital wing for half a month."

Draco smirked. "Speaking from experience?"

"Speaking from ample experience. Trust me on this, you'll thank me later."

"I can thank you now?" Draco mumbled, trying to sound alluring but failing since his throat was really sore.

"No, thank me later, I definitely don't want to be a part of whatever sickness you've gotten for yourself," Harry teased. "Are you tired?"

"A bit."

"Rest some more, then."

"Only if you promise me one thing," Draco said, slitting open an eye.

"Whatever's in my power," Harry confirmed.

"You'll stay right here."

"Okay," Harry promptly promised, settling back into his chair.

"No," Draco said with a smirk. "Right here," he tapped the mattress beside himself.

"Draco -" Harry began to protest.

"You promised," Draco said, his smirk turning into a wicked grin. Harry rolled his eyes and climbed into bed.

* * *

Draco awoke again around lunchtime, feeling a bit better. He groped around in the bed but soon realized that Harry wasn't there. He was about to voice his protest when the door opened again and Harry entered the room carrying an armful of towels. "Perfect timing," he congratulated, and Draco frowned. 

"I've drawn a bath for you. Get up and get moving." Draco slowly pulled himself out of bed and followed Harry into the bathroom, ignoring the teasing from Blaise and Ron who were working in the common room.

"Did you kick Blaise out of the bedroom?" Draco asked as Harry ushered him to the bathtub.

"Yes, he was being an arse so it's off-limits until he needs to go to sleep." Draco rolled his eyes, amazed at how Harry was managing his sickness. "I'll be outside if you need anything," Harry said, putting the towels as well as the fresh pyjamas he'd brought onto the counter. Draco nodded, not feeling well enough to tease his boyfriend about staying. Instead, he stripped off his clothes and settled himself into the hot water, feeling momentarily disoriented before he sighed and closed his eyes.

"Draco?" a voice called from the other side of the door. "Have you fallen under the water? What are you doing in there?"

"Sod off, Blaise," Draco grumbled.

"Harry told me to get you out of there. He's gone to raid the kitchens for some stew. Come on, move your arse!" Blaise called, knocking louder on the door. Reluctantly, Draco rose from the bath and dried off, slipping into the pyjamas and returning to his bedroom where he crawled back into his bed. He didn't feel tired, exactly, and he was definitely feeling better after the bath, but he was also fairly certain that Harry would kick his arse if he came back and found Draco lounging in the common room.

"There you are," Harry said as he entered, carrying a bowl of what Draco assumed must be stew, and a spoon. "Eat this and then you're getting a massage. Draco had to admit that this was the best thing he had heard all weekend, and promptly decided that, with the way Harry had fussed over him all weekend, that it was a very good thing to be sick. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Draco said with satisfaction.

"Good. I spoke with Pomfrey and she says she'll give you a note about schoolwork, so if you do make it back to classes, you won't need to worry about anything."

"Just like that? She didn't even have to see me?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Well, she's rather fond of me," Harry said with a cheeky smirk. Draco quickly finished off his stew. "Temperature time!" Harry announced and thrust the thermometer under Draco's tongue before he could begin to complain. "Do you know Snape actually phoned us this morning? He was livid that you missed class," Harry said. "I put the call in to McGonagall so that she'd notify your teachers that you were unwell, so he knew you weren't skiving off, but he insists that you'll have to do a make-up lesson so that you'll be ready for the concert. Honestly, the bloody concert isn't until June! But still, you should have seen Blaise. He answered the phone in his classic Indian accent and Snape must have torn his head off. I've never seen that expression before in my life. You'll have to ask Dean for the picture. He says that photograph will make him rich. In all likelihood, the wealth that it will make him will come from Blaise. It's brilliant blackmail material!" Draco tried to chuckle around the small glass rod, but then his problem was relieved as Harry snatched the thermometer and checked it.

"Good. You're improving," Harry announced with satisfaction. "Okay, take off your shirt," Harry ordered. Draco blinked and then complied quickly, turning onto his back as Harry picked up one of the bottles he'd set aside earlier. "I hope you don't mind smelling faintly of lavender. It couldn't be helped." Draco wasn't really he wanted to know where Harry had gotten the massage oil, and, since he wasn't overly put off by the idea of smelling like lavender, he allowed Harry to uncap the bottle.

Draco had often been to a masseuse, but the feeling of Harry's sensitive fingers kneading his neck and shoulders, following the line of his spine down and slowly relaxing his aching muscles, was somehow different that the feel of a professional masseuse, even if one had been trained for years and apparently knew what they were doing, somehow Harry's fingers just felt better on his back than anything else ever had.

Draco sighed in contentment and settled more comfortably into the mattress. The soft scent of lavender permeated the air and the feel of Harry's fingers sliding over his back, the path made slick from the oil, warmed and relaxed him. Draco was certain that he had never felt more content, even despite his fever.

Harry smiled as he realized that Draco had fallen asleep. Leaning forward carefully so as not to disturb his boyfriend, he placed a kiss on Draco's temple. "Sleep well," he whispered before he capped the lavender oil and standing up. He shook his head when the blond began to snore quietly, and then left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * *

"I'm having a nervous breakdown," Pansy announced with conviction. 

Blaise cast her a dubious look. "Should I be afraid?" he questioned.

"_Very_," she retorted. "I really can't take much more of this."

Blaise shifted to read over her shoulder and winced when he noticed that there was no space anywhere in her day book, and Pansy had very small writing. "You need to take a break."

"I don't have _time_. I don't have time to _eat_. I don't have time to _sleep_. I don't have time for a bloody _bathroom_ break! My entire schedule is crammed with essays and assignments! I'm going insane! I mean it, Blaise! I'm having a nervous breakdown!" By the end of the speech, her voice had risen in pitch.

"You don't have time for a nervous breakdown," Blaise noted, looking at her schedule. "You're supposed to be studying for your chemistry test." Pansy gave a woeful wail and Blaise rolled his eyes, pulling her away from her books and fastening his arms around her shoulders to restrain her. "Listen here," Blaise said. "We're going to get out of here and have a nice relaxing dinner in town. When we get back, you are having a calming bath, while I look over your schedule. You've allotted too much time to write your English paper. You're brilliant in English and you always have lots to say. It won't take that much time, and once you've written it, I'll edit it and you can move on to your history paper, which you've also allotted too much time for, by the way. I'll revise your schedule and we'll work this through. You will be sleeping tonight, if I have to knock you out with your bloody chemistry text in order to make sure you do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Pansy said.

"Good. Now grab your coat." Pansy grabbed her coat and followed Blaise out of her common room.

They walked a ways in silence before she rested her head on his shoulder. "Blaise?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"You're not half bad," she said with a lop-sided grin.

"No, I'm not, am I?" he asked. She laughed and smacked his shoulder good-naturedly. "If it helps, you're only 49.3% bad."

"Really?" she asked. "Damn, that's under my set goal."

"Oh. Well, I can help you work on that," he teased.

"Stop it, you're making me feel less guilty about leaving my chemistry studying."

"The horror," he gasped and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "I'll race you to the end of the drive?"

"How incredibly immature and childish."

"That's redundant," Blaise retorted and then began cursing her because she had already taken off down the road.

* * *

The group headed to the Dining Hall, Draco's arm securely wrapped around Harry's waist, and Harry's arm was draped around his boyfriend's shoulders. Blaise had attempted to tease them, but he had received only bright grins from the both of them and he had since given up. 

As they neared the Dining Hall, Draco caught sight of Basil Bronthewait who was approaching from another hallway. He saw Basil slow down, dropping back from his group of friends who continued into the hall. Basil's eyes were focussed on him and Harry and he bit back a sneer. Harry hadn't noticed Basil, he was speaking with Dean about an art project they had been assigned, his left arm still around Draco's shoulders.

With a last fleeting glance in Basil's direction, Draco tugged gently on Harry's waist, getting Harry's attention before pulling him into a tight embrace and then into a searing kiss. Draco's hands ran up and then down Harry's back as Harry wound his arms tightly around Draco's neck, letting his fingers tangle in the soft blond lock. They lost themselves in spice and chocolate as their tongues sparred in a pleasurable battle. It was a kiss where the only thing that kept them down was gravity. Suddenly, everything seemed to cease to exist, there was just the two of them and the heat and the sweet taste of the other.

When they finally broke apart, still staying in the close embrace, Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder. In the back of his mind, he noted that the others had gone into the Great Hall and that they were alone. "Can I ask what brought that on?" Harry asked without raising his head.

"I love you," Draco stated simply and kissed Harry's head. It felt good to be completely healthy again, but, secretly, he was looking forward to getting sick again, if it meant Harry would fuss over him, and possibly give him another massage, even if it had left him smelling of lavender for three days after, despite frequent showers.

"Mm, "Harry murmured in appreciation. "And the fact that Basil was here a minute ago had nothing to do with that rather passionate and certainly possessive kiss?"

"Nothing whatsoever," Draco lied. Harry rolled his eyes and placed a quick kiss on Draco's cheek before stepping out of the embrace, keeping hold of his boyfriend's hand, and headed in for dinner, unable to keep the happy grin from his face.

* * *

TBC 

LOL! Everyone discovered my secret in the last chapter. It's true, I confess, I'm a shameless romantic!!! Anyway, I'm glad people enjoyed the last chapter and I hope this one wasn't too disappointing. Next one will make up for it! And, I know that the dance scene might have seemed random. I'm not sure about it. I wanted a scene where Draco was teaching Harry to dance, like, to bump-and-grind, and then, apparently, the little buggers couldn't keep their hands off each other. So, I mean, if it didn't work and it was just stupid, tell me and I'll take it out!

NOTE: I've had a few people ask me if I knew what was happening with the sequel to this fic. The answer is YES, I have begun working on it and I also have a rough idea of what will happen in it. Since there are only two more chapters of this fic left, I feel I should assure everyone that there will not be too long a wait between the conclusion of this fic and the beginning of its sequel. For those of you who are anxiously awaiting it, I can tell you that the title of the sequel is: THE ART AND PRACTICE OF ABSOLUTE PITCH, yes, that is a musical term but I explain it so no worries. I promise to keep music in it, and the romance. It will basically be quite similar to this fic but, naturally, quite different as our boys are older and out of school. Anyway, I plan on giving a teaser for it in the last chapter of LIFE, so look for it there!

THANKS for the people who were concerned about my exams! I know it took a whole month to update but at least, schoolwise, it payed off because I did well! YAY me!! Gold Star!! Sorry too about the delay for this fic. I was away on vacation and, frankly, this chapter was like pulling teeth.

This chapter is dedicated to ANGELIC CANDY for both the wonderfully LONG review you sent me. I don't mind babbling! Anyway, I was so pleased to hear that my fic is inspirational and I love hearing how people read my work and decided they wanted to practice more or pick up their instrument again. I know what you mean about 'practice makes perfect' and, I hope I'm improving. I promise to take a rest so I won't get writer's block, in fact, that's why the chapters have been coming out so slowly. Anyway, thank-you so much for your review. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

* * *

TEASER 

Invitation to Black Manor

The Concert

A surprise guest

* * *

1. Ubu Roi - 3 part play. It's a of satire on Macbeth. When it was first performed it caused a riot before the 1st act was done 


	12. The Trace of Fingertips

**Title: **_Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter 12:** The Trace of Fingertips

.....................

It was a beautiful thing, watching love.

Draco had been doing it all morning.

It was a Saturday and everyone had piled into the common room; 'everyone' being not only the usual occupants, excluding Crabbe and Goyle, but also Pansy and Ginny.

Seamus and Dean were teasing Neville, who was seated beside Ginny on the sofa and blushing constantly as the redheaded girl cast shy glances at him and brushed against him 'accidentally' every so often. Pansy and Blaise were openly flirting, Pansy sitting on Blaise's lap as they shared one of the armchairs. And Harry was talking with Ron whilst they alternated between doing their homework and inserting their own opinions into conversations when the other participants became quite vocal and thus drew both Ron's and Harry's attention.

If Draco were honest, he was watching Harry more than he was watching the others.

Draco was seated on the floor, leaning against the sofa; enough out of the way where he could watch everyone without someone noticing him and trying to include him. He was looking over the latest selection of pieces that Snape had given him, and trying to choose something for the spring concert; but somehow all of the music seemed to be inadequate. He was aware that he was likely being irrational; still, Draco had in his mind an idea of what he wanted the piece he chose to mean.

With a sigh, he set aside another piece that didn't seem right and took a glance at Harry. The dark haired boy had a perplexed expression on his face as Ron was in the middle of a speech of some kind. With a little frown, Harry opened his mouth and spoke a short sentence which had the immediate effect of Ron looking as if the wind had been let out of his sails, and they both returned to the textbook, no doubt looking for the solution which Ron had mistakenly thought he'd found.

It was little things Draco had noticed about Harry. Small bits of information that Draco collected like seashells - only to scoff at himself later for such sentimentality. How Harry would scrunch his toes when he was really happy, or eating something he was particularly fond of. How he chewed on the ends of his pens, and on the erasers on his pencils. How his eyes would be shining malachite when he was happy or green tourmaline when he was upset. Little things that Draco subconsciously noted that made him feel a bit silly when he realized what he was doing.

And Draco desperately wanted the piece he played for the concert to reflect what Harry had done for him, what Harry meant to him. But so far, Draco couldn't find anything that was as dizzying and exhilarating and vibrant and agonizing in its beauty.

................

Harry knocked hesitantly on his uncle's office door. He was trying desperately to appear calm, but he couldn't help nibbling on his lip, and his hands had been safely tucked into his coat pockets because otherwise they would be fidgeting.

Sirius opened the door and yanked Harry into the office and into a hug, slamming the door all in one fluid motion that had caught Harry completely off-guard. He found himself being ushered towards one of the plush leather chairs, a bottle of soda being thrust into his hands.

"I wanted to talk to you about Easter break," Harry managed, when he had gotten his bearings back.

"Sure thing, Guppy," Sirius said, grinning and settling back into his chair.

"Well - I was wondering." Inside his pockets, his hands had started fidgeting. He drew them out and settled them onto his lap, and then nibbled on his fingernail for a moment before he tucked his hands back into his pockets. "Erm - what I mean is - I wondered if it would be okay if - if Draco came to stay with us for the break."

Sirius looked at him for a moment, and Harry couldn't stop a faint blush from rising to his cheeks. He wanted to explain to his uncle, but he wasn't sure what Sirius' reaction would be and Harry didn't want to risk angering his uncle, or doing anything that would make Sirius feel compelled to separate him and Draco.

"Sure thing," Sirius said after an agonizing moment of quiet. Harry sighed in relief and then tried to hide it by taking a long sip of his soda. "Harry -" his uncle broke off and Harry was surprised to see that Sirius looked nervous as well. "I just- " Sirius looked at him measuringly and then quirked an eyebrow. When he spoke again, his tone was light, but Harry didn't miss the underlying message. "I might have to leave the manor for a day or two - a friend might be coming into town, you know how it is -" Sirius looked at him casually, but Harry knew that his uncle was likely on to him, and though he might be blushing furiously, Harry still felt completely grateful for his uncle's tact.

"Thanks, Sirius," he said.

"I just want you to be careful, okay Guppy? I don't want you getting hurt," Sirius said, standing up and hugging Harry before placing a kiss on Harry's ruffled hair.

Harry found himself grinning despite himself. He tightened his hold on his uncle and sighed. "I love you, Siri," he said. It felt so perfect, being understood so completely, and Harry couldn't believe that he was so lucky as to have so many people love him enough to bother to even try to understand him.

"I love you too, Guppy," Sirius said. And then, because it was almost obligatory, and Harry would have been afraid if Sirius _hadn't_ made a comment like it, "My little baby's growing up!" Harry laughed and tightened the embrace.

..................

The music trilled over itself in a dizzying wave. Harry watched Madame Pereskew with anticipation and she cued the violins. He tore into the notes, holding back and easing forward into the crescendos with relish. He built up the music around himself like a tangible barrier -- like visible artwork.

Harry loved the way the cellos spilled over into the sound of the other instruments, and all the while, the piano seemed to trill above them all, as if the strings had made a bridge over which the piano could dance.

And then, just as easily, the strings would overtake the piano and drown it into a pleasurable death - each section spilling over each other and igniting in sharp distinction, yet always working together, never obliterating any of the other sections, always in unison.

It was one of the things Harry liked about working with the others, private lessons were challenging and interesting, but there was a satisfaction that Harry got from playing with other instruments that didn't come when he played solo. And this piece, Danza Ritual del Fuego (1) by Manuel de Falla, was an energetic blend of all the instruments. And it allowed Draco to play piano in class, which he hadn't had the chance to do in a while.

The piece wound down and Harry grinned as he rested his bow on his knee and laid Susser on his lap. "Congratulations!" Madame Pereskew called. "The audience is unanimous! A standing evacuation!" she called. Harry snorted. It was true, some of the students had been a bit shaky in certain sections, and by the way that Ron was glaring at the cellist on his right, Harry could tell that she had been the one who was off-key. "I expect it much improved for next class! Now, I have decided on the piece that we will play for the spring concert! I will hand out the music and I expect you all to practice, practice, _and practice_! So that we can do a respectable run-through after we have managed to play the de Falla piece properly!" She picked up a large stack of music and began to hand it out to each section.

"There are two pieces here," one of the bases pointed out.

"Quite correct. The explanation is quite simple. It is because we are going to play two pieces at the concert," she said. "I have chosen the Caprice No. 24 by Paganini. And then, because I wish to stir up the audience who will be lulled into a sleep by the rather somber choices of the junior strings, we will also play Binder's piece, the Allegro movement of the Overture from Orpheus in the Underworld." She held out a piece of music to Harry and he accepted it, looking over the music quickly.

"Same positions as at Christmas, please. Oh, and, Mr. Malfoy. For the Paganini, I will ask you to take your viola position, but if you would be so good as to provide piano for the Binder, I would appreciate it." Draco nodded distractedly as he glanced over the music. He looked up briefly to share an excited look with Harry, which Harry returned. "Since we have a few moments, we will sight read the Binder." She tapped on her music stand and everyone hurried to set up their music.

.....................

"Harry! Haul your scrawny arse over here so I can say good-bye! I don't want to miss the bus, but I'm not leaving until you wish me a happy Easter!" Ron called. He was standing with Blaise and the others on the front steps of the school, streams of students who were going home for the break were passing them, and, amidst the crowd, Ron could make out Harry and Ginny making their way over.

"Sorry, Ron. Happy Easter," Harry said when he came up beside the red head.

Ron simply rolled his eyes and pulled Harry into a hug. "Have a great Easter, mate."

"I will," Harry assured his friend. "You too. Say hello to Hermione for me." Ron had decided to spend the break with Hermione rather than returning home.

"I hope you're happy," Ginny sulked. "I get to be stuck with Fred and George. I swear, I'll be certifiably insane by the time the break is over."

"Aw, Gin. Nev will keep you sane!" Seamus teased, throwing an arm around a blushing Neville.

"Are they that bad?" Neville asked Harry quietly, as Ron and Seamus bickered over the implications to Seamus' comment.

"Naw, the twins are good fun. Just don't eat anything they give you, or drink anything they give you - or touch anything they hand to you - or really, do anything they seem over-eager for you to do. But you should also be wary if they seem to not want you to do something ... oh, and I wouldn't sit too close to them or shake their hands," Harry teased, Neville tried to laugh when he realized that Harry was just joking, but he seemed a bit dazed.

"You'll be fine, Neville. You should run, Ron," Ginny said. Ron swore, shouted good-bye, grabbed his bags and sprinted down the drive towards the bus stop. "Blaise, what are you doing for break?"

"I'm staying here," Blaise said flippantly. "Pansy and I have a lot to catch up on," he explained.

"Why, what did you miss?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Not much - but too much," Blaise said. "I'm just here to wave you all off on your merry ways and hopefully by the time you children have been returned to your rightful owners, I can get a good snog in before lunch," Blaise said and Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at his friend's antics before pulling Blaise in for a hug. "You behave," Blaise whispered, throwing a wink at the shorter boy.

"You too," Harry said and they bother grinned, knowing that they had no intentions of taking the other's advice.

"Have the Finnigans come already? And where's Dean?" Draco asked, looking around, trying to spot the familiar faces in the crowd.

"They both left in the morning. I mean, the _early_ morning. Seamus was dragged out of bed at six o'clock. He looked about ready to kill someone. But Dean's parents came around nine," Neville explained.

"I didn't see them go," Blaise said.

"I wouldn't be surprised, you were still in bed, drooling a nice little puddle onto your pillow at ten," Draco murmured sarcastically.

"I heard that," Blaise snapped, smacking the back of Draco's head.

"Abuse! Abuse!" Draco cried.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry greeted, as Draco was stumbling around crying 'abuse' while Blaise continued to torment him.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley cried and embraced him. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Harry answered.

"And Sirius?"

"He's well. He's already started out for the house."

"Well, happy Easter," she said, looking at him and shaking her head. "You've gotten so tall," she said. Harry looked down at his feet, trying to judge whether they seemed further away than they had at December, which was when he had last seen the Weasleys.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley greeted.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said, shaking the man's hand.

"Has Ron left already?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Yeah, just a moment ago."

"Ah, Ginny," Arthur Weasley said, as Ginny rushed forward, dragging Neville behind her. "And who is this?" he asked, though he had seen Neville before.

"Mum, Dad, this is Neville Longbottom. He's uhm -"

"He's her special bloke," Blaise said, batting his eyelashes and looking besotted at Neville, who took a step away from Blaise, and thus bringing him closer to Ginny.

"S-sir," Neville said, shaking Mr. Weasley's hand. "Uhm, Mrs. Weasley," he greeted.

"Neville, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Weasley said, she was beaming, completely oblivious when Ginny looked mortified at her mother and cried out in dismay. "I'm so happy to meet you and we're looking forward to having you at the house," she crooned. Oddly, Neville seemed to become completely relaxed. Usually Mrs. Weasley took some getting used to, but Neville seemed to be right at home with the Weasley's - at least with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, there was no telling how he would adjust to the twins.

"Well, we'd best be off," Mr. Weasley said. "Harry, boys," he said. "Have a wonderful Easter." Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry once more, crushing him thoroughly before following her daughter, Neville and her husband down the steps towards the car.

"Well, that leaves you two demons," Blaise said, looking at Draco and Harry.

"Oh shut up, you know you'll be wasting away in boredom without us," Draco said.

"Right. Sure I will - well, hurry on then, I'm quite eager to begin my decomposition," Blaise retorted. Harry rolled his eyes and Draco scoffed and Blaise and Draco clapped each other on the shoulder in good-bye and Harry waved at Blaise. "Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Blaise called.

"Right! That _really_ puts a limit on what we can do, now, doesn't it?" Draco called back. Harry laughed and dragged his bag over to his truck.

"Ready?" he asked as Draco settled into the front seat after depositing their bags in the trunk.

"As ready as ever," Draco said. Harry started up the truck and pulled out of the drive.

.......................

Black Manor was not what Draco had been expecting. He wasn't aware that he had ever had some preconceived notion of what Sirius and Harry's home might look like, only a realization, as Harry pulled down the private road that led to the large manor, that this was not what he'd thought it would be. Draco's own past experiences with large homes might have contributed to his surprise. Black Manor was certainly quite large and regal in appearance, but there was also something about it that made it seem like a home, rather than a stark museum or showpiece.

As Harry parked the car, Draco could already see Sirius sprinting from the door, down the front steps, and over to the vehicle, as if he were a child. "You made it!" he called.

"Hey, Siri!" Harry greeted as he hopped out and shut his door. Draco shut his own door, stepping to the back to help Harry take out their bags, and then they followed Sirius into the house.

"Welcome to Black Manor, Mr. Malfoy," Sirius said grandly.

"Knock it off," Harry chided. They walked into the living room and from there, into the dining room where an ornately carved mahogany table was set for a casual lunch. It was a contradiction that Draco was certain would have never occurred at his own home, and he found he quite enjoyed it.

"I'm famished," Harry stated after a moment, settling into his place at the table. Draco smiled faintly as Sirius followed suit. He felt as if he had just been assimilated into the strange family that Harry and his uncle made. Draco had come as a guest, and despite the fact that he knew Sirius and felt comfortable with the man, there was still a sort of nervous anticipation that had filled him as Harry had driven over. Draco assumed these were the normal nerves that assailed anyone when they were going to meet the relatives of their boyfriend. After all, he had only interacted with Sirius at school, the man had to be different when at home.

And yet, here he found himself, sitting in a fine dining room, having a comfortable and casual lunch, talking and laughing as Harry and Sirius joked, as if things had always been thus. Draco spared a moment, between the main course and dessert, to wonder where his nerves had gone, but dismissed the thought when Sirius started an unofficial competition with his nephew on who could construct the most intricate example of architecture out of the Jell-O which had, much to Draco's dismay, been served alongside the carrot cake.

"Two desserts?" Draco asked as he watched Harry build a replica of the Eiffel Tower.

"Well, Harry doesn't actually like Jell-O," Sirius explained.

"It's sort of just served as a creative exercise," Harry explained with a grin. "Ha!" he said, as he stuck a toothpick into the top of his Eiffel Tower and speared a piece of lettuce onto the toothpick, making a flag. "Beat that!"

Sirius looked at his Jell-O replica of Stonehenge. "I win," he declared. Draco rolled his eyes as he carefully dished some Jell-O into the spare bowl.

"How so?" Harry asked in dismay.

"Stonehenge is far more intricate than the Eiffel Tower!"

"What?" Harry cried. "It's a bunch of posts and lintels standing around an open field! It's mysterious, because we don't know who made them or anything. And it was undoubtedly an architectural feat for the time, but in terms of Jell-O constructions, the Eiffel Tower far outweighs Stonehenge! You didn't even construct it accurately! Look, you just used the bloody cubes, didn't bother to cut them down!"

Draco grinned and slid his bowl forward. "I think," he said calmly. "That in terms of Jell-O constructions, I win." Harry and Sirius turned to eye his bowl. He had created a small igloo.

"Brilliant," Harry said with a grin.

"It's an _igloo_!" Sirius cried. "Stonehenge is _far_ more complex than an igloo!"

"Inaccurate Stonehenge isn't really complex at all, is it?" Harry said. Draco laughed and shook his head. He was aware that the Jell-O was a tactic that had been used to make him feel more relaxed. It had worked, brilliantly. And as Sirius and Harry bickered playfully, Draco wondered who had ever been so daft as to make the rule 'never play with your food'.

......................

Early the next morning, Harry washed and dressed before heading down to breakfast. Breakfast was always a casual meal because his uncle usually woke up early and Harry liked to sleep in. He'd gotten dressed because he felt, for some reason, self-conscious about being in his pajamas at home with Draco, even though he'd done it when they were at school.

Pushing the kitchen door open, Harry realized that he had woken up early, and that, amazingly, his uncle was still in bed. With a sigh, Harry shuffled over to the pantry and got out the coffee grains. He was on his way back to heat up the water when he noticed that Draco had already started it. "When did you come in?" he asked in surprise.

"Morning to you, too. I just got up, and I thought I would see if anyone was awake. Is the world ending? Why are you up this early?"

"I'm not sure," Harry answered, placing the coffee jar on the counter and looking around blearily. "I think the world may be ending." Draco chuckled and pulled Harry in to a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll get breakfast started, at least, you know - to pass the time till the apocalypse and all." Draco laughed again and poured them each a cup of coffee as Harry began to make breakfast.

They ate a breakfast of eggs and bangers, neither one feeling overly hungry, and by the time they were finished, it was clear that Sirius fully intended to sleep in. "We have a piano, if you're interested," Harry offered shyly.

"We haven't really ever played together," Draco thought. It was funny to realize that they hadn't. There were a few practices outside of class where they had toyed with the Danse Macabre, but it was always painfully obvious that there were sections missing.

With a shy grin, Harry led the way to a large room by the front entrance way. One wall was composed of ceiling to floor intricately designed windows. The rest of the room was stuffed with plush chairs and ornate furniture. A chess set, which looked very old, was set up between to wingback armchairs by the fireplace. But Draco was taken with the beautiful black piano that was situated in the corner of the room.

"Go ahead," Harry said with a grin as Draco ran a hand reverently over the keys. As Harry took his violin case from where it had been set on a table and began to unpack, Draco sat down at the piano and began to play the Moonlight Sonata. Harry set his music stand by the piano and then stopped, closing his eyes and listening to the music.

"Tease," Harry said with a grin when Draco broke from the Sonata into Chopsticks while grinning at his boyfriend. "Pick a piece," he offered, motioning to a bookshelf where sheets of music were filed haphazardly. Draco rose and looked through some of the pieces before he grinned and snatched out one, handing the violin music to Harry and setting the piano music out for himself.

Wriggling his fingers to wake them up, Draco glanced over at Harry who was looking at the music with a strange expression on his face that Draco couldn't quite describe. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Hm?" Harry asked, distracted. "No, just memories," he answered, sounding wistful. "Good memories." Draco didn't know what to say, and, not wanting to pry, he nodded. "Ready?" Harry asked as he settled his violin into position. Draco turned back to the music and let out a breath before he leaned forward, squinting at the music to make sure he remembered the piece. "You're fingers know the music, Draco," Harry said softly but with confidence. "It's not about the notes anymore."

........................

Sirius woke late and took a moment to lie in bed before, with a reluctant sigh, it occurred to him that Harry and Draco were likely already awake and waiting for him. With another sigh, he washed and dressed and headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. He was only halfway down the stairs when he heard the music.

It was soft and wistful and indescribable. Sirius had heard this piece played before, a long long time ago. With a sad smile, he crept down the stairs and peaked into the room where the music was coming from. The sight seemed perfect. Draco sat at the piano, looking as if he belonged in that very spot, and Harry was standing close by, violin in hand and playing. They were framed in the morning sunlight that streamed in through the windows.

Sirius felt tears coming to his eyes and he listened to the duet. He remembered when a much smaller Harry had stood in a similar position at his old home, while Lily played the piano. She had always said it was only fitting that she teach this piece to Harry. And they would _play._ Sirius remembered thinking that, even for just a small child, there was so much life in Harry's music. He could play a duet with Lily, an accomplished musician, and not sound out of place. They would be breathing in unison, each in accord with the music, and swaying as if the notes themselves were moving them. And both mother and child had the same wistful smile on their face, eyes closed, both clearly somewhere _else_, and it had never failed to hypnotize Sirius.

Somehow, seeing Harry there like that, playing with Draco, made Sirius' heart warm. Even if Draco's eyes were open, and his smile more faint, it was clear that he was equally as transported as Harry was, as Lily had been. It was comforting to see this open proof that there was some connection between his nephew and this boy, beyond a teenage infatuation. It was right there, in the way that they shared their music so openly with each other. Even if Sirius could have dismissed how Harry and Draco had interacted with each other in those times when he had seen them, he couldn't deny this. It was like what he had seen so often with James and Lily, though, perhaps, to a slightly lesser degree. After all, James and Lily had never shared creative moments; those had always been kept separate. And though Lily would play for James, and James would write with, and then read to Lily, they were never transported together to that Other Place where they seemed to go when they were _creating_. But Sirius could always tell that James and Lily were alike in that way was because, whenever they had been caught creating, either writing or making music, they had identical looks on their faces.

The music drifted slowly to a close and Sirius blinked as Harry's eyes opened and he lowered his violin and grinned at Draco. For his part, the blond simply grinned back. Words seemed to be unneeded; they seemed to understand exactly what the other felt. Sirius didn't want to interrupt the moment, and, feeling slightly guilty, though still warmed by what he had seen, he took a step back.

"Sirius, I didn't see you there! Morning!" Harry called.

Sirius grinned and, since the moment was already broken, took a few steps into the room. "Morning. That was lovely. I haven't heard that piece for a long while," he commented, and the flash on Harry's face showed him that the dark haired boy had been thinking thoughts similar to those he had been consumed with.

"Mum always said it was appropriate that she teach it to me," Harry said with a smile. It had always amused him, the way his mother would fuss, as she, at the end of every one of his practices, would take out the music and join him in the duet. It was a Dvorak piece entitled 'Songs My Mother Taught Me." Harry remembered how his father would sometimes tease her about it, but she would always sniff defensively and say that it was only appropriate. For Harry, it became his reason to practice. When things were hard or when he thought he'd rather be doing something else, he would remember that his lesson always finished with the duet. Sometimes he would even sneak in an extra practice, or two, and his mother would always ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead, but she always played it with him.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Harry asked, breaking out of the memory. "You probably haven't. I'll make something for you," Harry said in a rush as he set his violin down in his case, but did not put it away. "We're coming back to this, Draco!" Harry called as he headed out of the room.

Draco smiled and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that the music had stirred up memories and he knew when he should keep quiet. What he wasn't expecting, as he exited the room following his renegade boyfriend, was for Sirius to place a hand on his shoulder and look at him with an expression that was so packed with so many various emotions and say, simply, "Thank-you," before heading down the hallways.

For a moment he just stood there, and then he smiled broadly and hurried down the hallways after his boyfriend and the eccentric art professor.

.................

"Trust me, it's a tradition and you don't want to mess with it," Sirius warned on Easter Monday as Draco watched Harry disappear into the kitchen. "He absolutely refuses all forms of help. But the end justifies the means, I guess. We've always had really wonderful mini-feasts." Harry had left to begin cooking the 'Easter Feast' as Sirius had dubbed it. Draco still felt guilty about leaving Harry to cook by himself, but Harry had been adamant, and in the end, Sirius had assured him that this was a tradition.

"He's been doing this since he first could cook. It got to the point where he would chase even Lily out of the kitchen," Sirius explained with a grin. "All that's left for us to do is somehow amuse ourselves."

"However will we do that?" Draco asked with a smirk. He watched as Sirius tilted his head from side-to-side as if keeping the beat of some unheard song. In a moment, he rose from his chair and headed over to one of the many floor to ceiling bookcases. Draco couldn't make out what he was doing but he understood when, after a moment, a song began to play, quite loudly, from a set of speakers that Draco could not find.

"I remember, for the longest time, James considered this the best music he had ever heard. Drove Lily absolutely mad," Sirius said as he began to dance around. Draco grinned, both at the image of a professor dancing around such an elaborately decorated living room, and at the thought that anyone could consider Popcorn a legitimate piece of music. "I absolutely insist that you dance," Sirius said as he bopped forward, grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him up out of his chair. "It's another rule that you're just going to have to get used to."

Draco could dance. He enjoyed it very much. But this type of dancing, just to be silly? That was something Draco had never done before, and he was certain that his father would frown on it fiercely. He blinked as he remembered that his father wasn't here to scold him, nor would he ever be again. Draco grinned and began to bop around.

From the doorway to the kitchen, Harry grinned watching his boyfriend and his uncle compete to make-up a sillier dance move. It was strange, but he felt that this Easter was definitely among one of the best Easter breaks he had ever experienced. He stepped back into the kitchen before he could be spotted and hurried to get dinner started.

......................

"Does it bother you?" he asked, nervously fisting the ends of his sweater in clenching and unclenching hands.

"Does what bother me?" Hermione asked. They were walking down the street and window shopping. The town where her school was located was small and had many specialty shops that they kept exploring.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "Us. That we aren't with each other. That we likely won't be for a while."

"You mean the distance?" Hermione clarified. At Ron's confirming look she smiled. "I thought it would. I thought that the emotions we both felt wouldn't be able to last because of it. But I think we're doing really well." She grinned and squeezed the hand that was entangled with hers. "How about you?"

"Dunno," Ron admitted. "I just thought, it was worth it. That whatever happened – it was just worth it." He turn a fierce shade of red and looked away and Hermione, grinning, tugged on the hand, pulling him into her and gave him a small kiss.

"I think it's little things like that that make it all possible." Ron didn't want to disagree with her, didn't want to say that he always thought he sounded like an idiot when he said things like that. He thought, as her lips pressed against his once more, that perhaps that was something else. Even if he did sound like an idiot, maybe that was worth it, too.

..................

**explicit content begins**

..................

Sirius had been gone for several hours already, and Draco and Harry had spent the time curled on the couch watching videos. Harry hadn't actually been paying attention to what they had been watching. He had made a decision at the beginning of the month -- something he hadn't told anyone. Sirius might have guessed, but that didn't count.

He turned to face Draco as the credits began to roll. It was his cue. He took a steadying breath, and when Draco's attention turned to him, he pretended to yawn. "I'll think I'll go to bed now," he said, trying to sound casual but, in reality, his nerves were increasing with each passing second.

"Sure," Draco replied, and for a moment, Harry feared that the blond would remain where he was. "I'll go up, too," he said, standing up, before turning around and hauling Harry off the couch. Harry hoped that Draco wouldn't ask him why he would be tired when it was only a bit before ten.

They walked in silence up the stairs. Harry's thoughts were racing. He kept wondering when he was going to tell Draco about what he wanted. They walked down the darkened hallways, Harry's heart rate increasing with each step and he began to worry that Draco could hear it, because it was so loud, a heavy drum beat in his ears, and he was aware that he was slowing his pace.

"Well," Draco said as they turned down the hallway where Harry's bedroom was. "Goodnight, Harry," he whispered. They had come to a stop outside of Harry's bedroom door. Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry delicately on the lips before he pulled away and turned to resume his walk down the hallway, since his room was a few doors down.

With a bracing breath, Harry grabbed Draco's hand. The blond stopped and turned back slowly, an inquisitive look on his face. "Harry? What's wrong?" Draco questioned.

Harry found that he couldn't exactly speak, so he answered by interlacing their fingers. Draco stepped forward, closer to Harry, still looking curious, and Harry was unable to meet those storm grey eyes, he was blushing furiously, and he hated that fact; maybe Draco wouldn't notice? He took two steps towards his room to distract the blond, carefully tugging on the hand that he still held.

When Draco simply took one step when he was tugged, looking dazed and stunned, Harry realized that Draco required clarification. "Stay with me?" he asked, because, right then, it was all he could manage. Draco's expression seemed to crack and the schooled features melted into the familiar blaze of desire and love that left Harry's world spinning on a different axis.

Draco moved quickly, closing the distance between them. When Draco tipped Harry's head back and hesitantly brought their lips together in a gentle kiss,. It was the sort of kiss where the only thing that could keep you down was gravity; everything else ceased to matter and all Harry could feel was a swell of peace building within him.

That soon changed to mind-numbing arousal; someone would have to be deprived of all five of their senses not to respond to the things that Draco had started subjecting Harry to. Once Draco's taste had pervaded every corner of his mouth and left what felt like a permanent imprint, their lips separated and Draco devoted all of his attention to mapping out Harry's body with his intuitive fingers. Roving over the soft fabric of Harry's shirt, and Harry cursed the material even as he blessed those wonderful fingers.

Harry loved the slight frown that marked Draco's face when he was completely focused on something. He had a sudden urge to tell the other boy how sweet it looked, but stopped himself when his words came out as a moan. Perhaps he would leave the talking for later.

Harry moaned again and pressed closer to his lover as those clever fingers brushed back and forth across his stomach, where they had snuck beneath the loose shirt, teasing the area just below the waist of Harry's jeans. "Draco," he more or less purred. "More!"

The kiss became hot fire and liquid lust and searing love - a desperate, needy thing that took on a life of its own. The need rocketed through Harry with such force that he was actually shivering, and he groped desperately for the door without breaking the kiss.

When he found the doorknob he turned it quickly, stumbling into the bedroom, with Draco's embrace being the only thing that kept him upright. They parted, only slightly, to gasp in oxygen.

Harry opened his eyes, wondering dazedly when he had closed them, and was caught in a storm of grey, roiling with emotions that made Harry's breath come harder. Draco pushed the door closed behind them with one hand even as the other began to attack the buttons of Harry's shirt.

Harry wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing, but he knew that things like this generally happened on the bed, so even as Draco's hands worked the buttons free, and his lips sought out spots on Harry's neck that made him moan involuntarily, Harry focused on pulling Draco with him in the direction of his bed.

They toppled in an ungainly heap, but Harry couldn't care less. Draco's fingers were on him, running over him, touching him in a way he had never ever been touched before, and Harry was trying desperately to just _breathe_ but somehow even that was difficult.

Draco nipped at Harry's ear and Harry was surprised to find himself arching off the bed, a move that was completely involuntary, and was that hiccupping sob issued from his mouth? And suddenly it was absolutely _intolerable_ that Draco should be lying on top of him, still fully clothed.

Harry sat up quickly, and for a moment, Draco watched him uncertainly, likely wondering if he had pushed too far, but when Harry's hands yanked harshly at Draco's T-shirt, pulling it over the blonde's head hastily, Draco released a huff of relief.

And then the dark haired boy lowered his head to the exposed flesh, lapping at the shoulder blade with a tentative tongue, sampling the taste of it. It was Draco's turn to moan, and Harry was shocked by it. It was strange to be this close to someone. Strange to have this sort of power over someone, and trust in someone. There was a part of Harry that was wondering how he could trust so easily, a part of him that was thinking that he should be worried. Hadn't Tom held him down and done exactly this? Licked and nipped and sucked, while Harry fought and screamed? Was it possible for Draco to suddenly turn ferocious? Maybe that was what sex was like?

But that part was overwhelmed by the other part of him which was completely comfortable with the intimacy and this part knew that it wasn't strange at all to trust Draco so completely, because Draco was nothing like Riddle. Somehow, being this close, being this intimate with Draco felt like coming home.

Their pace slowed by some mutual understanding that they both wanted to savor this moment. Draco shimmied out of his jeans and then set to work on Harry's as the dark haired boy continued to explore his lover's neck and shoulders - whatever part of the soft skin that he could reach. When Draco had finished with his task, he moved back up Harry's body, pushing the dark haired boy back into the mattress and slowly, reverently, running his fingertips over Harry's brow, down his temple and alone his cheek. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's scar, smiling to himself when he heard the smaller boy's breath hitch and then increase in its frantic gasps.

"Have you -" Harry began before stopping and trying to calm down, at least a little. Harry licked his lips nervously and finally focused on Draco. "Have you done this before?" It felt like he was about to cross some threshold into a different realm, and though he knew he was ready, and that he wanted to do this, Harry was suddenly worried about the implications.

"No," Draco answered, and Harry was surprised to hear that the usually calm blond sounded just as uncertain and aroused and consumed with wanting as Harry did. "I'm all yours," Draco added.

Harry smiled, pulling his lover down for a soft kiss in an attempt to hide his growing grin as well as to suppress his urge to giggle and completely ruin the intimacy of the moment. "I'm all yours, too," Harry whispered, nuzzling in to Draco's neck. He didn't see Draco's small knowing smile, but he did feel it as that smile was pressed into his chest, before the lips parted to allow Draco's seeking tongue out.

Draco relished his exploration of the smooth expanse of skin that was splayed out beneath him. He ran his fingers up over Harry's side, noting how passion seemed to have dulled whatever it was that made Harry so ridiculously ticklish. Instead, Harry merely squirmed a bit and sucked in a hitched breath. Draco smirked and, while his hands pressed lightly into Harry's sides, running up and down the lithe form, he let his tongue dip into Harry's navel.

Harry was swept away from logical thought. Slowly, with each kiss that Draco planted along his body, and with each tender nip of teeth, or caress of smooth fingers, Harry lost just a little bit more of the rational world. He was filled up with pleasure until he was overflowing with it, and still it came. He wondered, for a moment, if it were possible to go insane from pleasure and then decided that he didn't care so long as Draco never stopped touching him like that. His mind was overloading with contradictions - exquisite agony, painful pleasure - and Harry simply didn't _care_, he just wanted it to last forever.

Their fingers ghosted over each other, skimming teasingly, just above soft skin; exploring curves and seeking out those hidden places that, when stroked or pressed or caressed, would result in soft and helpless sighs, or a crescendo of moans and pleas and desperate supplication.

It was not unlike being lost in another world, thought Harry. Like how he felt when he played Vivaldi - bright and joyous. Rapture. Ecstasy. There were fleeting moments, when he was not lost in sensation, in the overwhelming _feel _of this intimacy, of having Draco so close, of Draco's fingers, the sound of Draco's voice -- when Harry was coherent enough to think that there existed no adequate words to describe what he was feeling, what it meant.

But then, Draco would kiss him leisurely or his tongue would exploit that tender spot just behind Harry's ear, or his long and delicate fingers - piano hands - would trail down Harry's body and leave him shaking and incoherent once more.

Harry had been told that the first time was not any good. That there was pain involved, and it was sloppy and clumsy. But, as Draco finished preparing him and carefully penetrated him, Harry found that all these rumors had been utter lies.

There was a bit of discomfort, it was true, but that was overwhelmed by the realization that Draco was there, was with him, _inside_ him. And the perfection of it washed over Harry in an intoxicating wave.

Slowly, Harry adjusted and relaxed into the sensation. They moved in unison, voices blending into each other until neither could tell which moan belonged to which of them.

And it simply didn't matter.

The pleasure bubbled through him until he was shocked out of his daze, to the realization that his head was thrown back, pressing into the pillows, his back arched and his mouth open releasing some silent sound. And just as his world was restored to him, Harry felt Draco tense and the strange sensation of having his lover climax inside him sent his head spinning for another moment.

They panted, lost in the other's eyes until Draco's fingers brushing away tears that Harry hadn't even realized he had cried jolted the dark haired boy. "Did I hurt you?" Draco asked. His voice sounded different, rougher, and Harry had to bite his lip to stop a smile from spreading as he realized that it was because Draco had been crying out in ecstasy - an ecstasy that Harry had been solely responsible for.

"No," Harry whispered, not wanting wake from this strange dream just yet. He looked away from the piercing grey eyes that looked at him with concern. Harry did not want to admit that he had been overwhelmed by the sensations, did not want to confess that, after everything that he had experienced throughout his life, all of the emotional roller coasters he had been on, it had been this that had overwhelmed him completely. "You didn't hurt me," he finished. A finger curling under his chin and coaxing him to look back at the blond only encouraged the nervous blush that was already spreading across his face.

When Harry finally met his eyes, Draco smiled softly and kissed him softly, but thoroughly. "I love you," Draco assured him, and somehow Harry knew that Draco understood everything that had been running through his head. It was such a relief to be reassured, to be held so gently and touched so tenderly, and to hear those words.

"I love you too, Draco," Harry whispered.

..................

**End of explicit content**

..................

Harry woke to the feel of fingers in his hair and a hand stroking his bare hip. He refused to open his eyes, afraid that it was just a dream. When the ministrations did not stop, though, he risked squinting open his eyes.

"Hey," Draco greeted in a soft whisper.

"Morning," Harry echoed. "I was scared that it wasn't real," he said, and then blushed, because it seemed an incredibly corny thing to say. But Draco grinned at him.

"It was very very real," he assured. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression turning serious.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked. Draco turned his face away and Harry was certain he saw a trace of rose on the usually pale cheeks. "What time is it?" he asked, to distract his lover. In the back of his head, Harry felt certain that he should feel awkward; after all, he was lying, naked, in bed, with someone who he had just been intimate with. Yet, somehow, it felt like a natural thing to do. Harry couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed.

"It's early," Draco answered, pulling Harry close against his chest. "Go back to sleep."

"Hm. Okay," Harry answered, already drifting off again. Draco smiled and kissed the boy's temple before allowing his own eyes to droop closed.

.................

"Do you think about it?" she asked, toying with a small throw pillow and then tugging it into her lap to clutch at, almost defensively.

"About?" Neville prompted, wondering what he had missed.

"About graduating? "Ginny asked. They had the house, or at least the living room, to themselves. Neville had found that he was quite enjoying Ginny's family, though sometimes Mrs. Weasley made him nervous, and the twins' good-natured teasing almost made him flustered.

"Of course," Neville answered, unsure what the point was. He thought about graduation all the time., more and more the closer it came Worrying about tripping as he walked up to receive his certificate, wondering if professor Snape would suddenly decide not to pass him in piano, thus forcing Neville to retake his year.

"You'll be leaving," Ginny pointed out, looking away at a corner of the room. Her voice was shaky, though she hid it well.

"Is that why you're sad?" Neville wondered. Ginny didn't answer, but she didn't look at him either. Neville had learned read her and he shifted a bit closer to her on the sofa that they were sharing. "I'm going away, Gin," he confirmed. "But I'm not leaving you. There's always letters, and weekend visits. I won't be far. At least, not too far."

Ginny turned to face him, the beginnings of a smile on her face. "Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," he agreed. And they shook on it. And, just to make sure the pact was really sealed, they kissed on it, too.

...........................

It was late, the sun already had set, and Sirius opened the door to the house, debating whether he should make noise or not, wondering if Harry and Draco had gone to sleep already or not.

He kicked off his shoes and tossed his coat in the general direction of the closet, and then prowled down the hallway towards the kitchen, intent on picking up a midnight snack, but the light seeping out from beneath the living room door made him pause.

Carefully, making sure that he was very quiet, Sirius slid the door open. A fire was burning in the fireplace, and Sirius almost thought that the room was empty when he noticed the light glinting off a now-familiar head of white-blond hair.

Draco lay sprawled on the sofa, his head resting against the back of the sofa, and his body stretched out lengthways. He held a book in one hand, and the other was wrapped around Harry, who was equally as fast asleep.

With a smile, Sirius stepped further into the room. Harry had his head resting against Draco's sternum, his right hand braced against Draco's pectoral and the other was wrapped loosely around a piece of the blonde's shirt. Draco had, apparently, been reading, when they had passed out.

With a devilish smile, Sirius trekked out of the room and into his study, rummaging through his desk and returning to the living room with his camera, where he quickly took a picture and then, with a sigh, he stepped back and frowned at the pair.

He had been worried when he had guessed about Harry's plans. He supposed it was the fear that any parent had when their child started to grow up too quickly. Or, seemingly too quickly. Sirius didn't want Harry to get his heart broken, but at the same time, he knew that it was important that he be entirely supportive of his nephew's decisions, after all, the boy was very mature for his age, and their mutual trust in the other was one of the things that had allowed them to cope with everything they had.

Still, the fear was an obligatory thing. And though Sirius had graciously relinquished the house so that Harry didn't have to be distracted by thoughts of possible interruptions. That didn't mean that Sirius hadn't been fretting, as he had spent the night, first at a movie, then a pub, and then, a hotel room. He'd worried about every possible scenario, and some that seemed impossible.

Yet, here was proof that, for the moment, all was well. Harry and Draco seemed to be as close, if not closer than they always had seemed, and Harry didn't appear hurt in any way, and they seemed happy, if not content.

He smiled to himself as he exited the room, sliding the door shut and creeping up the stairs. They would sleep well enough where they were. Tomorrow they could pack their things for the return trip, for now, they could sleep. It would be a shame to disturb such a peaceful scene, anyway.

................

"You've not found something suitable?" Snape drawled at the end of their lesson. Draco attempted not to fidget.

"No, sir. I've been looking, but nothing has peaked my interest." It sounded incredibly vain, but it was as close to the truth as Draco would come to, at least in conversation with Snape. He wanted a piece that reminded him of Harry and what his lover meant to him. He had found some pieces that were very pretty, and some that were very passionate, but nothing seemed to fit.

Draco was aware that his professor was giving him a very measuring look, but before Draco could attempt to rephrase his statement, the dark-haired man rose from his seat. "Follow me. Take you things."

They trekked through the hallways, Snape moving brusquely and Draco having to stretch his legs to keep up. Finally, they arrived at a thick bare-wood door. Snape withdrew a set of keys, unlocked the door, and allowed Draco access. "You will find music on the shelves, help yourself," Snape said, and that was it.

Draco placed his bag on the floor near the doorway and cautiously took to the shelves, looking at the sheets of music, sometimes taking a piece off the shelf and glancing over it, running the song through his head, sometimes just reading the title and composer and passing on. There were several that peaked his interest, he was painfully aware of his professor's presence as the man sat at his desk, apparently marking.

Draco turned back to the shelves, tracing a fingertip along the sheets of music and the spines of the collections of pieces. He let his mind wander, the various selections were vast and he couldn't possibly process them all. He was about to give up and just settle for one of the pieces he had set aside when one of the titles intrigued him and he carefully extracted the music. It was a short piece, complicated, but perfect. He smiled to himself and turned to face his professor.

"I assume you've made your decision?" Snape asked, without looking up. He held out a hand and Draco passed over the piece. "Hm," Snape commented, before handing it back. Draco couldn't read the expression on the man's face. "You will begin practicing immediately, you will play it in your next class." Draco, knowing the sound of a dismissal when he heard one, thanked his professor and then quickly exited the room, the sheet music clutched in his hand.

.................

Draco watched Harry as he set the music onto the stand that he shared with Shaye, one of the other violins. It always amused him how Harry would get so focused before he played, as if he were drifting into another world - but perhaps that was exactly what he was doing.

Turning his gaze from Harry, he focused on Pansy, who had been made the announcer for the spring concert because of her ability on the debating team and because she didn't play an instrument, and thus was able to announce for the entire concert.

She announced both pieces, flashed him a wink, looked quickly over to Harry, who was already watching Pereskew, impatient to begin playing, and Pansy turned back to Draco, rolling her eyes at Harry's behavior. Draco responded with a subtle shrug and she left the podium. Draco turned to Pereskew, awaiting his cue.

They played the Paganini first. Draco liked it because it showcased the violins, and Harry really brought the section out. There was an elegant and aloof sort of mystique about the piece. Moody and enticing and Draco didn't mind that he was playing viola, because he liked the brooding sort of lull to it.

They got a good deal of applause, but Draco couldn't appreciate it fully as he had to run from the viola section over to the piano which had been set up.

They set into the Binder briskly; and it seemed to catch the audience off-guard. Everyone was playing with a sort of wild delight and it came together in a wonderful blend of humor and ecstatic joy and freedom and great leaps and trips of notes that had the audience roaring with approval and every student on stage grinning like madmen.

"Not bad," Pereskew whispered to them with an approving smile, but Draco noted that she brought out a hanky and dabbed at the corner of her eyes as she exited the stage.

...............

"Draco Malfoy will now perform his solo piece, 'The Heart Asks for please First', composed by Michael Nyman."

Draco was already seated at the piano as Pansy announced his piece. He flexed his fingers, looking at the music, though he had memorized it long before, and smiled to himself as he thought about his inspiration for this piece. He was certain that Harry was watching him from the wings, peering through the curtains.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the thought of soft malachite eyes and the half-smile that Harry had flashed him before Draco had gone out onto the stage. He exhaled in a whoosh and set his fingers flying.

Draco couldn't remember a time that playing had ever felt so perfect. He was transported - taken to a world where the only thing that existed was Harry. He remembered the first time he had seen his lover, hips swaying and fingers dancing over the fingerboard of his violin. Draco was consumed in shaky breaths and half-moans and the exquisite sensation of his fingers on satin skin - of Harry grabbing his hand and flashing him that shy look, looking nervous and uncertain and beautiful.

The feel of him. Arching under him. Surrounding him. How his fingers felt as he had massaged Draco's back.

The taste of him - chocolate and spice and perfect perfect perfect. Draco let himself sink into it. Drown in it.

_"Can I - can I kiss you?"_

Suddenly everything was purged. In one instant, the world flipped into perspective. He wasn't thinking of his father or his mother, or of schoolwork or of what he was going to do when he graduated, all that mattered was that he was with Harry.

_"How would you touch me, Draco?"_

Harry who was _there_. Harry who had _always_ been there. Harry, who was waiting for him. Would always be waiting, and the thought was exhilarating, that there would be other memories to make, that there would be other moments of peace and bliss.

_"Stay with me..."_

Suddenly everything seemed to mean so much more, be filled to overflowing with new meanings and everything became _alive_ and vivid and the realization was breathtaking.

The piece came to a conclusion and Draco was grinning. He didn't hear the applause or hear the whistle as Blaise cheered and Seamus called out wicked things. He didn't hear the laughter or notice his mother dab her eyes with a handkerchief. He didn't even care that Snape was giving him a speculative look from behind the curtains on stage left or that he had played the entire piece with his tie slightly undone and a bit crooked.

Draco exited the stage in a daze and was confronted by the crooked grin that had transported him to a world of perfection for a few short moments. And it felt good, as Harry pulled him into a tight hug and then pressed their lips together.

It was what counted.

He moaned and stumbled with Harry until Harry was pressed back into a wall. And they were trying desperately to keep quiet, because someone else was on stage now, but it was wonderful, to be so close, to be so much a part of each other. And Harry sighed and choked back a groan as he shifted up and wrapped his legs around Draco's waist as Draco grinned and shifted over so that the curtains obscured them.

They stayed together behind the curtain until a throat clearing itself pointedly for the third time, brought Harry out of his daze and he let his legs drop back to the floor and smiled sheepishly at Ginny.

"Harry, I thought you might want to know that you're on next," she said with a smirk. Harry blushed deeper, and Draco couldn't think of anything that had ever felt more right in his life.

"Good luck," Draco said, squeezing Harry's hand before he relinquished it so that Harry could pick up his violin case. Unable to stop himself, he snatched Harry's sleeve and tugged him back into another kiss.

When they parted, he tried to fix Harry's hair and clothes, wanting his lover to go on stage looking presentable, and not freshly snogged, though the boy's flushed face and reddened lips would, perhaps, be a clue. In the end, it didn't matter, though, because Harry always looked beautiful, and the stage lights were bright enough to hide the flush on the pale boy's cheeks.

He watched as Harry walked out onto the stage and settled to watch his lover perform.

..............................

Harry unsnapped the locks on his violin case, trying to steady his breath. He had drifted from thoughts of kissing Draco and was now quite nervous about what he was about to do. It was silly, really, a strange fear of standing out and being different. But he had been thinking about something Draco had said to him before Christmas break, and it had stuck with him until he had succumbed.

With a deep breath he opened the case and carefully unstrapped his violin and removed his bow. He wondered what the reaction would be, and promptly decided to find out.

With a small smile, Harry picked up his violin and turned to face forward. Pansy announced his piece, but she could hardly be heard over the cheers and noise that Harry's section mates and close friends were making. Harry grinned and glanced to the wings and saw Draco watching him.

Harry raised Little Mischief and tried to focus. It had been a decision that he had made some time in February - if he were honest with himself, he knew it was a decision inspired by Valentine's Day, and a sudden understanding that not only did he really want to play a piece on Little Mischief for the Spring Concert, but that it was what he needed to do. It was time.

He had chosen Kreisler's 'Liebesleid,' though he wasn't sure exactly why. Pereskew had given him the music as a sort of exercise and Harry had hated every moment of it. As he had drudged through it for practice, though, he had begun to hear it differently. He wasn't sure what it was that had prompted him to try it with Little Mischief that first time, but from there, he had taken on a different exercise, and that was to modify bits of the piece to make it sound as if it were made to be played on his electric. The tempo was increased, a few embellishments and, of course, a bit of improvisation.

As Harry began, he let his eyes fall closed. The improvisation made it unnecessary to take nervous glances at the music, and the fact that he had been practicing it since March meant that the piece was ingrained in memory.

He broke the mundane footing of it and elevated it into a different realm, he let the notes soar, bleeding out of the heart of him, steeped in his passion for music and the wildness that he could never suppress when he played on his electric. It was a different kind of wildness from when he played Susser, not any more or less sweet, but it was something he had kept secret for a long while, and it felt good to let it out.

Flashes of the first time he had seen Draco zipped through his mind as he leant into a run and he thought that Draco had brought out this kind of wildness in him. It was amusing, to think that his lover inspired the same things in him that Little Mischief did - that music did. But in the end, Harry wouldn't have wanted it any other way. There was something inherently _right_ about that realization, and a wave of contentment rushed through him.

As he brought the piece to a dramatic end, Harry let his bow and violin fall to his side and made his small bow. It took him a moment to come out of the haze that music always left him in, and he realized in a shock that the sound of loud applause and whistles and cheers were rebounding off the walls. Stunned, Harry took a step back, he glanced nervously to the wings where Draco was grinning like a madman and clapping. Harry squinted passed the stage lights at the audience and was shocked to see that the mass of students and teachers and parents were all standing. He heard a few shouts of 'Encore!', but he thought the voices sounded suspiciously like Blaise and Dean.

Harry left the stage with a shy grin.

..................

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed as Harry and Draco returned to the Blue Room where students, parents and teachers were congregating for post-concert tea and chats. They had left to put their music and instruments away and this was the first chance Ron had had to see them, since he had been busy putting his own cello away as well.

"You were brilliant, Ron," Harry said ignoring the compliment and grinning at his best friend. Ron shook his head, amused at how awkward Harry was with compliments. He smiled as he noticed that both Harry and Draco had their arms around each other, and didn't show signs of breaking apart anytime soon.

"I can't believe you played Little Mischief, Harry!" Dean cried as he rushed to join them. "You should have seen Snape's face! He just about died! But McGonagall looked positively ecstatic!"

"Well, as ecstatic as she can look, anyway," Blaise corrected.

"You should have told us, Harry!" Seamus whinged. They had now conglomerated around Draco and Harry, complimenting and fussing over the performances they had heard.

"Draco?" a tentative voice questioned, and Draco turned around, not relinquishing his hold on Harry despite the fact that the dark-haired boy's immediate reaction was to pull his arm back.

"Mum," Draco greeted, noting the nervous look Harry as well as his friends, were showing.

"You played wonderfully, Draco," Narcissa beamed. "I was very proud. You all played wonderfully." She smiled at Ron and Harry and Neville, and then, glancing down at Draco's arm where it wrapped around Harry's slender hips, she looked back and Draco and smiled mysteriously.

"Mum," Draco said, glancing at Harry and then turning back to Narcissa. "I want to introduce you to Harry Potter. He plays violin, and is one of my section mates. He is also my boyfriend." Harry tensed and looked at Draco in shock, but Draco kept his attention firmly focused on his mother, daring her to show shock and anger, to cast him away like he knew she would.

Narcissa turned to Harry, a genuine smile blossoming on her face. "Hello, Harry. It's wonderful to meet you at last. I've been witnessing the affects you've been having on my son and it's lovely to finally be able to thank-you." She grasped Harry's hand and shook it before leaning forward and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Both Draco and Harry, as well as Blaise and the others, simply blinked in surprise. Then Harry found his voice, cleared his throat once and smiled back, shyly. "Erm. Thank-you, Mrs. Malfoy. It's nice to meet you as well."

Draco looked back-and-forth between his mother and his lover and then, with a laugh bubbling out of him, he lurched forward and hugged Narcissa. He had been so certain that she would turn him away. "Thank-you," he whispered to her.

"He's lovely," she whispered back, and Draco stepped back, turning and grabbing Harry into a hug before planting a firm kiss on the slightly smaller boy's lips. When the broke apart, Harry flashed him a grin before recognizing Sirius in the crowd and waving him over.

Draco laughed as Narcissa and Sirius began to banter. The rest of the group had mainly dispersed, recognizing that this was time Harry and Draco needed alone with their parental figures. Draco squeezed Harry's hand and the dark haired boy flashed him a grin, both still recovering from the shock of being accepted so easily.

"Harry, you must tell me how you arrived at the modifications you made to that piece. It was quite lovely," Narcissa urged, and Harry turned back to the conversation. Draco sighed contentedly and slipped his hand free from his lover's grasp, winding his arm once more around Harry. He was about to turn and confirm on Narcissa's comment that Harry was very talented when a flash of white blond hair caught his attention. Draco froze and stared at the tall figure of Lucius Malfoy. He became suddenly aware that he had his arm around another boy, that he was grinning and that the piece he had played was not what would be considered appropriate by Malfoy standards.

He was surprised to notice that he felt no shame, only a sense of satisfaction. He had done what was right, he had done what made him happy. But still, Draco wished for his father to be with him, to be proud of him. Harry's laughter called him back to the conversation, and Draco broke eye contact with his father to smile and nod at his mother and Sirius, pretending that he was still following the conversation.

Hastily, Draco turned back to the spot where his father had been, but there was no sign of Lucius. He scanned the crowds but the familiar white-blonde hair, which was so easily spotted, was not in sight. Draco felt a pang off sorrow wash through him. Tightening his grip on Harry, he turned back to the conversation and did his best to forget about it all.

...................

"You must be Severus Snape," Narcissa said with a smile. "Draco's has told me so much about the lessons you've given him."

Severus turned, an eyebrow quirked, and smiled thinly, looking more as if he were smirking at her, or perhaps grimacing. "Yes, he has been quite an interesting pupil," he drawled as he shook the woman's hand.

"Oh, I apologize. My name is Narcissa Malfoy, I am Draco's mother."

"Really?" Severus asked, becoming intrigued. The woman was quite charming and Severus found himself warming up to her. "You must be pleased with his progress."

"Very much so," Narcissa said, turning to smile fondly at her son and his boyfriend where they stood, surrounded by friends and laughing. "I am very much pleased."

Severus looked at her closely, examining the fond expression. He glanced at the blond boy where he stood, cavorting with friends, arms draped around Potter. He would have thought that a family such as the Malfoys would frown on such a relationship, as well as outward signs of affection. Yet the smile was sincere, and it made her eyes shine. Another thing caught his eye; her left hand was pale and slim, and unadorned by any jewelry. Not even a ring. He frowned as his thoughts began to toy with this new puzzle, even as Narcissa turned back to him and engaged him in conversation. Severus was surprised to find himself responding easily to the light questions.

They spoke lightly about many varying topics, for quite a while before Narcissa excused herself in order to say good-bye to Draco before returning home. Severus retired to his rooms feeling oddly relaxed and inexplicably looking forward to the graduation festivities.

.....................

"You played tonight, Draco," Harry whispered, his fingertips ghosting across Draco's bottom lip. Their foreheads were resting against each other, and Draco's arms were wrapped around Harry. They were lying in Harry's bed, since neither one had wanted to separate after such an emotional night. "I mean – you really played," Harry rephrased. "It was beautiful."

Draco smiled faintly and kissed Harry's finger that was still caressing his lip. "It was a night of beginnings, don't you think?" Draco asked. Harry smiled, his eyelids already beginning to droop.

"Of good beginnings," Harry corrected, his eyes almost completely shut.

"Shh," Draco whispered, shifting his head to kiss Harry's temple. "Go to sleep now," he advised, smiling as Harry sighed and snuggled closer, already fast asleep. Draco could not so easily. He kept thinking about how so much had changed so quickly. It was only September that he had come here, expecting to spend the year alone. There was no way that he could have known that any of this would have happened. That he would find someone who made him feel like Harry made him feel. That his parents would divorce, that his mother would support him so fully. There were so many changes, and Draco couldn't believe them all.

He carded his fingers through Harry's soft, ruffled hair and wondered if he would give it up to have his father back. There was a time when his father had meant everything to him, but now. Now everything had fallen in to perspective. He loved his father, and he missed him. But the things that had changed for him, the things that he had found out about himself, and the people who had come into his life were worth everything to him. Draco couldn't imagine giving any of it up for anything. Not even for his father's respect.

..........................

TBC

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Aah, can you believe there is only one more chapter to go? It boggles my mind. Thanks so much for everyone for their patience with my updating and the great support through reviews and email. I was honestly blown away by the response this fic got. What began as a random outburst, spurred by long separation from my cello (my own Komm Susser Tod) and which I figured may garner a review or two, actually became a 13 chapter enterprise that received such great attention! I'm so thankful!! I really hope everyone enjoyed this fic and I hope you'll have patience awaiting the next and the FINAL chapter!!! Ergh. Totally mind boggling... And, if you find you still enjoy this little universe, and the final chapter just isn't enough, I hope you'll check out the sequel, (which should be out shortly after the last chapter is posted) and leave a review.

**NOTICE**: Hi ho! I just wanted to give everyone an update on what's going on. As I've said above, the next chapter will be the conclusion of this fic. I have decided to write a sequel. Many thanks for the people who cast a vote on which pairings they wanted to see. I know roughly what's going to happen and I know who I'm going to include. As it stands, the sequel may be restricted (not NC-17). I know that there were younger readers who were keeping tabs on this fic, and believe me when I say I gave it a lot of thought, but, at this rate, I think it would give me more leeway to curse and set hot boys on each other... Anyway, this is just to let you know how things stand now. At this moment, only the first chapter of the sequel is in the works (read: almost done). So, please, check it out when it comes, maybe I will have changed my mind. If it is restricted and you're underrage and you still wish to go ahead and read it, I request that you do so responsibly, meaning that you don't come and flame me for content because I think that this constitutes ample warning! Anyway, see you in the next chapter!

This chapter is dedicated to IMIGO for that amazing review. Thank-you so much for taking the time to write all of that, it meant a lot. I'm glad to hear that I've managed to broaden your horizons! I love hearing about how my writing has encouraged people to do things, whether it's pick-up their instrument again, or do something they haven't done before, I think that was the most amazing thing that happened to me with this fic, is people have started reviewing saying, 'this fic encouraged me to ...' and I was completely blown away! - Would you like some hot chocolate? - LOL.

_AND_

to TASH. Thanks for the long review, no, you didn't sound like an idiot. As to your questions. I was inspired because I'm very similar to Harry, in that I'm multi-talented in the arts, and I was separated from Komm Suzer Tod (my cello) for a long period of time since I was at school. My major passion is writing, or else I wouldn't be bothered to spend so much time with this fic and its sequel (as well as the other fics which have been in the works behind-the-scenes) and I always finish my fic with a smile, but it always turns to a huge grin when I get that first flood of reviews about it and what people thought of it. Thanks for taking the time to write that review!

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_TEASER_

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Graduation

A gift

A surprise

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1. Part of El Amor Brujo, the Pantomima is also nice


	13. Life is a Love Story

**Title: **_Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers _

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter 13:** Life is a Love Story

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"It's this kind of stuff that gets you thinking," Ron stated as he stuffed a pair of pants into a worn duffel bag.

"About the stupid decision you made not to do laundry until you got home?" Harry teased, picking-up a shirt between his index finger and thumb, holding it at arms length and dropping it on top of the duffel before cringing and deciding it was safer if he just perched on his friend's bed and avoided the questionable clothes altogether.

"No, you massive dolt! About us! About _everything_! This is it, Harry," Ron stated with conviction. "This is the end-point. We made it. We completed our _last_ year here." He paused and bit his lip. "So _now_ what the hell do we do?"

Harry barked out a laugh before shaking his head fondly and patting the spot beside him on the bed. Ron immediately took it. "What are you really worried about?"

"I don't want us to just go our separate ways!" Ron admitted.

"And why on earth would we do that? We're best friends, Ron," Harry chided.

"Yeah, but you – you know," Ron looked closely at Harry a suspicious look as if Harry were simply playing dumb to aggravate him. "You hear about it all the time. We'll end up in separate places, separate schools. We'll keep in touch at first, letters, phone calls, email. But you'll make other friends. And we'll just sort of – dissolve. I mean, say what you want, but you know I have a point."

"Do you really think that I would let my best friend just _dissolve_?" Harry asked, a concerned frown on his face.

"I don't think you would do it intentionally, but I think it would happen," Ron admitted, he refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"Listen to me, Ron," Harry said, grasping his friend's shoulders and turning him to face him. "You and Hermione went to different schools this year. Did she just dissolve?"  
  
"No," Ron admitted grudgingly.

"And why was that?" Harry asked, "I'll tell you. Because she meant something. You mean something to me, and I'm assuming that I mean something to you. Best-friends just don't dissolve on each other. We stick. Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not going to get rid of me that easy. I have no intention of pulling a Wicked Westy." Ron laughed at the reference to the Wizard of Oz.

"I won't melt either, then," Ron promised. He crooked his pinky and held it up, a gesture which Harry quickly mimicked and, hooking their pinky-fingers together, they made a pact.

"Speaking of Hermione," Harry said with a wicked grin.

"Stop it, Harry!!" Ron cried as his friend teased him. "I have to finish packing, it's the last day you know!"

"Your own fault for leaving it to the last minute. We finished exams last week." Ron jerked his chin up and returned to his work, ignoring Harry's laughter.

..........................

"Draco!" a familiar voice called, and Draco stopped walking and turned back to the front hall. The group was heading back from the Great Hall. It was a slow walk since it had been the Leaving Feast which meant the food had been beyond excellent and each had consumed more than their usual intake.

"Mum?" Draco asked, startled as he picked out the slender form of his mother waving at him and beckoning him over. "I'll see you when I back," Draco offered as the others nodded and resumed their slow trek.

When he reached his mother's side she embraced him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Draco, luv, how have you been doing? Exams went well?"

"Not badly. What are you doing here?"

"Oh! I was just so excited to see you, and I have such wonderful news. Besides, graduation is tomorrow! I'm not that early," she smiled and, linking their arms, began to walk through the empty hallways. "I don't know my way around this place. Is there a nice room where we can talk?" she asked.

"Here," Draco gestured to one of the small languages classrooms. Shutting the door behind him, he settled down on a desk facing his mother. "What has happened?"

"Oh nothing to worry about," Narcissa dismissed. "I just wanted to see you. And to tell you that I've found a place for us. It's quite a lovely little home and it's quite close to the centre of London. I've got it all set-up so it will be ready for us. We're off as soon as you officially graduate."

"Wait, we – London? Now? I mean –"Draco bit his tongue. He was overwhelmed with a funny sense of déjà vu.

"Oh, I know you'll miss your friends. But, they can always come to visit us," Narcissa said, a hopeful smile on her face. Draco couldn't possible break her heart. He had been hoping that he could stay relatively close to the school, since, as usual, Harry was going to be alternating between the school and Black Manor. "It's not too horrible, is it?" she asked.

Draco sighed. He was being selfish. Just as his mother had pointed out, Harry could always come to visit, or Draco could venture up here to visit. But then, with work limiting their schedules, that was going to be difficult – but it was worth it, Draco decided. He would make the time because it was worth it. He and Harry had survived worse than distance.

"No, mum, it's not too terrible," he answered.

Narcissa beamed. "Now, tell me about the plans for the ceremony tomorrow. You have your clothes set out? I don't need to take anything in to town to be pressed?"

"No, mum, everything is set-out." It was sort of relief, in a way, to speak about the ceremony. It took his mind off of how he was going to tell Harry. They had never formally spoken about it, but it had always been understood that they wanted to spend as much time together as they could before they had to go their separate ways for university.

Draco sighed as he thought about it all. This was life, he supposed, and it was never simple. Draco supposed that this was a good thing, because it were simple, he was certain he might get bored with it. But still, he couldn't help wishing that he could have his own way on this point. It would be refreshing.

.........................

The ceremony was too long in Draco's opinion but he managed to survive it, running through everything his father had drilled into his head as a little boy about proper conduct and etiquette. So Draco sat, straight-backed, regal in his black robe, and managed to hide his frustration about being seated alphabetically and thus far away from any of his friends.

He sat, straight-backed and silent, as the headmaster spoke, and then as Minerva McGonagall spoke, even though the speeches were long-winded and dull.

He sat, straight-backed, mildly excited as one-by-one students were called forward by name to receive their certificates. He walked, tall and proud, but not openly showing his excitement, up to the front dais, shook hands with Albus Dumbledore and accepted his certificate with a small smile before returning to his seat.

He clapped when he was supposed to clap; he even nodded when a one of the many speakers said something that Draco assumed was meant to be particularly meaningful. But really, Draco just wanted to toss his hat in the air, and cheer and hug his friends and go crazy.

Instead, he sat, straight-backed and silent. Until, finally, the last speaker had spoken, and the last school song had been sung, and the last student had received their certificates.

And then, Draco rose from his seat, ripped the hat from his head, threw it in the air, and screamed, his exuberant voice joining those of his peers.

.........................

"Lucius?" Narcissa asked, stunned, as her progress through the shuffling crowds revealed a familiar figure.

"Hello, Narcissa," Lucius greeted.

"I – I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said, feeling flustered. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thank-you. And you?" he asked.

"Fine," she answered. They shared a moment of awkward silence. "Look at us, reduced to stilted pleasantries," she said, a laugh bubbling up in order to release the pressure. Lucius smiled softly and nodded. "He looked wonderful, didn't he?" she asked.

"Yes. Quite the young gentleman," Lucius agreed, both turning to watch Draco who was near the front of the room.

"I'm so very proud of him," Narcissa admitted. They watched for a moment as Draco laughed and joked with his friends. "He's done very well," she adds and watches closely to see Lucius' reaction.

"He has," Lucius agreed, and though his face was expressionless, his emotions are clear in his eyes. "I apologize, Narcissa," he added, though he does not quite look at her.

"You don't have to be. These things happen." Even if it hurt. Even if the pain felt fresh and she wanted to hold him close, remember why they married in the first place, remember the good times.

"It's for the best," Lucius scoffed.

"Whether it is, or not, it happened, and it was right," she corrected. The silence is not strained when it comes, instead it is oddly comforting. Even through such a strange conversation, Narcissa feels as if something has been returned to her. Maybe the healing had begun? She nearly laughed at the overdramatic thought. "Don't forget about him," she asked after they have stayed silent with each other for a while.

"I don't think I could, Narcissa."

"Good-bye, Lucius." She manages an honest smile.

"Good-bye, Narcissa," he replied and, however faint it was, her smile was returned.

........................

Ginny waited until the attention of most of the gang had been directed towards Blaise and Seamus, who were doing some strange impersonation which she did not care to interpret before she stepped forward, snatched Neville's arm and proceeded to drag him to a more quiet part of the hall.

"Ginny?" Neville asked, when he had gotten his bearings.

"I wanted to talk to you," she a said. "Before things get all chaotic with leaving and all that. I wanted to make sure that we had a moment, just us." Neville nodded, unsure what to say. "Nev ..." she let out a breath. "I know we spoke, earlier, about what would happen after this. I wanted to make sure, though, that we'd still be together. You know? That we'd keep in touch."

"Absolutely," Neville replied. He had no intention of growing apart from Ginny. "I promise to write, religiously," he added. He was rewarded with a bright smile and a chaste kiss.

"I promise too. I promise to write, religiously," she said, just to make it formal. "And you have to brave my siblings at least once and come to visit me."

"A-alright," Neville stammered, remembering the twins and the warning they had given him about hurting their one and only sister. They had used props. Neville had been very afraid.

"I'll miss you lots, and every day," she said.

"We're not separated yet," he said, and, taking her hand, guided her back to where the group had conglomerated. Much to Ginny's relief, Seamus and Blaise had ceased in their bizarre impersonation, and she wondered if she wanted to ask after what they had been doing. She decided she'd rather not know, smiling to herself.

........................

"Mrs. Malfoy," Severus greeted, and Narcissa turned around and smiled at him.

"Please, call me Narcissa," she invited.

"Congratulations are in order. You must be very proud of Draco," Severus commented.

"Yes, I am," Narcissa said, smiling brightly.

"Has he made plans for the upcoming year?"

"He's moving with me to London for the summer. And in September he starts at university. He's pursuing music, naturally."

"I'm glad to hear it. He's preparing for his audition then?" Severus questioned, recalling that the truly good universities always required several auditions. If Draco had been accepted, then he would likely audition to be placed in a certain class.

"Yes he is," Narcissa confirmed.

"If he requires any help in his preparations, I would be glad to offer my services," Severus said, withdrawing a card from his pocket. "This is my number, please feel free to call."

Narcissa accepted the card, glanced at the number and smiled. "I will," she said, feeling oddly like a young school girl.

"When do you plan to return to London?" Severus queried, after an awkward pause.

"Tonight. Draco has packed his things. We have to leave soon if we are to make the train. It doesn't give him much time to say his good-byes but I had difficulties arranging time away from work," Narcissa paused and seeing Severus' curious expression she smiled. "I'm an editor. I have a project I'm working on but I got some time away because I have been with the company for a long time."

"It must be very fascinating work."

"It is. I quite enjoy it. Oh dear," Narcissa exclaimed when she realized the time. "I should likely get Draco or we'll completely miss our train. It's a shame we found each other so late, I would have enjoyed a longer conversation," Narcissa admitted.

"Yes, perhaps we'll meet again," Severus offered.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed.

"Have a safe drive," Severus added. Before she left, he caught her hand and gave it a brief kiss.

........................

Draco wove through the crowds trying to find his way back to Harry and the others. He had spoken with his mother and, though it had taken a good deal of convincing, he had gotten her to agree to him taking a later train. He hadn't yet said good-bye to his friends, and that was something he was loathe to do.

He had just caught sight of his lover when someone grabbed his shoulder. Half-expecting one of his other friends of classmates, Draco turned around ready to make a smart remark, instead he blinked in shock as he came face-to-face with his father.

"Draco," Lucius greeted.

"Father," Draco answered, trying to get his bearings.

"Congratulations," Lucius said. "Your mother told me that you graduated near the top of your class."

"Yes," Draco confirmed. He wasn't sure exactly what he should say. He hadn't seen his father since the spring concert, and even then, no words had been exchanged. Lucius had seen Draco with Harry and had left abruptly. Draco wasn't quite sure how he had felt about that, and he was even more unsure what he felt now.

"I wanted to say that I am very proud of you," Lucius said. Draco was too stunned to reply. "And to give you this." Lucius withdrew a small key from his breast pocket. "You know what this is, of course?"

"Not exactly," Draco admitted, staring at the key.

"I thought certainly you would remember that decrepit instrument," Lucius said, almost to himself.

"The piano?" Draco asked, stunned. He most certainly did remember the white grand piano that his father had played when Draco was still very small.

"Well, I have no use for it, and I thought you might like to have it. When you find a place of your own, you will notify me, and I will have it shipped out to you," Lucius said. Draco stared at the small key which his father had placed into his awaiting hand, unable to formulate words.

When he finally looked up and spoke his thanks, he noticed that his father's eyes were directed elsewhere. When he turned to see what he was watching, Draco noticed Harry, who was laughing along with Deana and Seamus.

"You should really return to your friends," Lucius said. "And I have to go. I'm running quite late as it is," he said flippantly.

Draco nodded. "Thank-you," he said, offering a small smile before turning to head over to where Harry was.

"Draco," Lucius said, and Draco turned back. "One more thing." Lucius withdrew a small box from his inner pocket and held it out to Draco, who accepted it. Draco looked, from the box up to his father's face, and watched as Lucius flicked his eyes from where Harry stood, back to Draco. "Just in case," he offered with a small smile, before he turned around and disappeared into the crowds.

Stunned, Draco carefully opened the small box. Inside was a ring.. An elegant gold wedding band. The Malfoy ring.

......................

"I thought I'd lost you," Hermione said.

"You didn't, I just got bowled over by some bloke," Ron said.

Hermione smiled and interlaced their fingers together. "This way we won't get separated," she explained. Ron grinned. "I'm really nervous," she said.

"You've no reason to be. They'll love you to bits." They walked up to a small mob of people who all had a familiar shade of red-orange hair. "Mum, dad, I want to introduce you to Hermione Granger," Ron said before his mum could crush him in a hug.

"Oh!!" Molly cried. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you!" She scooped Hermione into a tight hug. When Hermione was released, Arthur shook her hand and smiled, sharing an understanding look. "Oh this is lovely!"

"Honestly, Ronnikins, where are your manners? You've nearly talked our ears off about her for months and you wait all this time before you introduce us?" Fred asked as he stepped forwards. He scooped Hermione's hand up and gave it a kiss.

"Ignore him," George said, stepping forward and shaking Hermione's hand. "He's the crazy one."

"_I'm_ the crazy one? I thought _you _were the crazy one?" Fred asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"You're both nutters as far as I'm concerned. Here - you know Ginny," Ron said, and Hermione beamed and hugged the familiar red-headed girl. "And this is Percy, and Bill and this is Charlie," Ron introduced each of his other brothers who stepped forward and smiled and shook Hermione's hand.

"It's lovely of you to have come down for his graduation," Molly Weasley said.

"It was a promise we made," Ron stepped in. "To make sure we both made it to graduation. So Hermione's come down for mine. And at the end of the week, I'm going to hers."

"You were trying to make sure he did graduate, weren't you?" Ginny asked with a wicked grin. Hermione laughed.

"I'm not that bad!" Ron cried.

"Oh, stop bickering. Hermione, we have so much to talk about," Molly said, bustling over to Hermione and beginning to question her about her studies and how she was enjoying her school. Hermione was surprised to find that she felt right at home.

......................

"Where are your parents?" Pansy asked as she stepped over to Blaise's side. He was standing by himself near the refreshments table.

"They've left. I think the idea of being in the same county as the other got to be too much for them." Pansy frowned and kissed him. Blaise smiled at her attempt to console him and shrugged.

"Does that mean that you're all mine, to do with as I choose?" she asked. Blaise grinned, suddenly seeing the bright side to the situation.

"I guess it does," he said.

"Wonderful, come and meet my parents," she said, as she grabbed his arm and began to tug him through the crowds.

"That wasn't exactly what I was expecting."

"No, I doubt it was. But I can't exactly let them stand all alone over there. And I'm certainly not going to leave you by yourself over _here_. This is my compromise." She dragged him over to where a tall man clad in a blue suit, and a slender woman in a pale grey dress stood. "Mum, dad, may I introduce Blaise Zabini."

"Ah, Blaise. It's lovely to have a face to put to the name," Mrs. Parkinson said, smirking slightly at her daughter, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Blaise said as he shook her hand. "And you, sir," he said as Mr. Parkinson grasped his hand.

"Wonderful to meet a youth with respectable manners," Mr. Parkinson exclaimed.

"Richard!" Mrs. Parkinson said, just as Pansy said "Dad!".

"What are your plans for the summer, young man?" Mr. Parkinson asked, as mother and daughter shared a long-suffering look.

"I'm working this summer, up in Wiltshire, sir," Blaise answered.

"Wiltshire?" Mrs. Parkinson exclaimed. "Well, then you must visit us, we live in Wiltshire. What a lovely coincidence."

"I would enjoy that," Blaise agreed, trying to ignore Pansy's stunned expression.

"Blaise, where are you mother and father? I would love to meet them," Mrs. Parkinson said.

"They had to work," Blaise lied easily.

"What a shame. Well, you must accompany us to dinner, then. We're having a small celebratory feast."

"I would enjoy that," Blaise agreed. Mrs. Parkinson began to speak about the restaurant they were heading to, and they began manoeuvring through the crowd.

"You never told me you were working in Wiltshire!" Pansy whispered furiously.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Blaise said with an innocent smile. It had nothing to do with coincidence. Blaise knew where Pansy lived. He had decided he was going to move out, and was surprised when both his parents (separately, of course) offered to support him while he 'settled in'. Blaise chose a place and a job that were as close to Pansy as he could get.

"Well, I am surprised. In fact, you never cease surprising me," Pansy said.

"Good," Blaise retorted. "Then I'm happy."

.....................

"This totally bites!" Seamus exclaimed as he entered into the common room where his bags were, and found that the others were already there. "This is the last time we're going to be in here! I'm going to miss this!" he said. "I mean, as much as I complained about life here, I really am going to miss it," he said.

"We're facing similar realizations," Blaise offered dryly. Everyone was lounging on the couches and not making any move to grab their luggage and go.

"Well, we'll all keep in touch," Ron offered, running over the conversation he and Harry had had when they had been packing.

"'Course, but things will still be different," Seamus complained.

"Change is good," Neville offered.

"Bollocks," Seamus replied bitterly.

"Don't be a wanker. Anyway, I've put this off as long as I possibly can. My parents are probably about to set the dogs out after me," Dean said, dragging himself from the couch. "Everyone haul your arses up and lets say good-bye."

Slowly, everyone complied. "This seems a lot more final than it ought to be," Dean noted, as he picked up his bags.

"That's because it is!" Seamus whinged.

"We're not dropping off the other side of the world, Seamus," Harry said.

"I know but – damn, this sucks, is all," Seamus offered. Harry rolled his eyes but embraced the Irish boy. "You staying here?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah. I'm working here over the summer," Harry answered. "See you, Dean," Harry said as the other boy headed towards the door.

"You'd better," Dean responded.

"If you don't keep in touch with me, I will break you legs," Blaise warned Harry.

"Well, that's good incentive, then," Harry mused. It felt strange to be saying good-bye to everyone. It did feel final, even though it certainly wasn't.

"You'll come and visit?" Ron clarified. "My mum's already started planning her meals for it. She's still hell-bent on fattening you up."

"She can try all she likes. If it hasn't worked yet, then I'm doubtful it ever will," Harry joked. Reluctantly, everyone began to exit the room, toting their bags.

It was so quiet and empty in the section.

"Don't think about it," Draco said, as he stepped up behind Harry and embraced him. "It really isn't as final as it seems."

"I really hope you're right," Harry said.

.....................

Draco tossed his bag into the back of Harry's truck and turned back to look at the school. It felt strange. He had spent a bit less than a full school year there, since he had arrived late, but still, it felt more like home than any place Draco had known before it. And now he was leaving it.

He tried to imprint the memory of it in his mind. With a reluctant sigh, Draco turned his back on his old school, opening the door to the passenger seat and then shut the door. It felt like some great feat he had accomplished. He turned and looked at Harry who was watching him with an understanding look. Perhaps Harry was the only one who could understand it so well. After all, the school had literally become Harry's second home. It must hurt him just as much to imagine leaving it come September.

"Ready?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," Draco answered. He watched the side mirror as the pulled down the long driveway. "I never thought I would like any place so much that I'd have such a hard time leaving it," he admitted. Harry smiled at him but didn't say anything.

They drove in silence for a bit, and then distracted themselves from sombre thoughts with loud music and banter. By the time Harry pulled into the train station, both of them felt comfortable with the knowledge that they would see each other again.

The train station, though, brought out their immediate concern, which was being separated. It was a selfish thought, and it was one they had each had before. "I'll come in with you," Harry said as he followed Draco to the trunk where Draco retried his bag.

"Thanks, and thanks for driving me out," Draco said, mentally smacking himself in the head. Harry grinned and rolled his eyes, acknowledging the silliness of this. They walked into the busy train station and found Draco's platform where the train was already being boarded.

They stood for a moment, simply watching the train, neither one wanting to acknowledge that now was the time to part. Finally, realizing that it was rapidly nearing the time for the train to depart, Draco turned to Harry and opened his only to be stopped as the dark-haired boy leaned forward and pressed a heated kiss to his lips.

"Don't say good-bye," Harry requested, when they parted for breath.

After that kiss, Draco would have agreed to anything. "Okay," he answered, and was rewarded with an amused smile from his lover. "Then, I'll see you later," Draco said instead. Harry grinned, and Draco couldn't resist another quick kiss.

The train's whistle blew and Harry broke the kiss, gesturing for Draco to go. With a small smile at his lover, Draco turned and boarded the train.

......................

Harry stood on the platform and searched the windows for a sign of his lover, but he couldn't see him. The whistle sounded again and Harry sighed. He reminded himself that Draco was right; none of this was as final as it seemed.

With another glance at the train, which had begun to creep forward, Harry turned and walked out of the building and back to his car. He drove home in silence, wanting time to think and to let everything sink in. There would undoubtedly be a lot of changes coming, he hoped he was strong enough to face them all, but for the first time in a long time, he actually believed in his own strength. It was a good feeling.

When he arrived back at the school, it was getting late, and the students had all left. Harry thought that he should find Sirius and see if he needed help clearing up and closing his classroom, but he wasn't quite ready to relinquish his solitude. Instead, Harry found himself heading back to the section; he and Sirius had decided to spend one more night at the school before heading back to the Manor.

Without thinking, he picked up Komm Susser Tod's case and headed back out of Hart hall. He followed his feet back to conservatory. He only wanted to play and be lost in sweet lull of the music and not think about anything.

He climbed the stairs to the stage and methodically unpacked his violin and bow from the case. Not bothering with music, Harry played the first song that came into his mind and out through his fingers. Quite fittingly, it was Vivaldi's Largo movement to Winter.

Harry let his eyes close and let emotions float through him. It was bittersweet. Each happy memory was countered by the thought of the unknown which loomed ahead. It didn't matter what anyone said, things were going to change. It was inevitable, and Harry wasn't against it. But still, there were things that he wished could remain the same forever.

At school, he was with his friends, caught somewhere just on the outskirts of the real world, where he didn't have to worry about money or responsibilities. At school, there was only schoolwork, and friendships and love and music. He didn't have to worry about what he was planning to do with himself, it seemed clear. Now, everything was muddled and confused. No matter what he had counselled Ron earlier, he worried that they would each drift apart. It was inevitable. They would have their own experiences with other friends from their universities, and there would be less and less that they had in common with each other, until it just seemed like all they did was sit around and recount their high school days. Which would just be pathetic. And so they wouldn't bother to get together anymore.

He poured out his sadness and his hopes and fears into his violin and listened to her sing. Her voice echoed off the walls of the conservatory and came back to him, wrapped around him like a blanket and he felt safe. Settled. Because, in the end, no matter what happened in the future, or where they ended up or whether they all remained friends or not, what counted was that they had those memories, and no matter what, the memories would always make Harry feel happy again.

He brought the piece to a gentle close, feeling somewhat better, and was surprised when he noticed Sirius standing at the foot of the stage, with an odd expression on his face. Harry didn't say anything, just lowered his bow and violin to his side. Sirius smiled at him in an understanding way. "Lets go home now," Sirius said, and even if they had made plans to stay an extra night, Harry had to agree with his uncle.

He packed Susser away and stepped down off the stage, his uncle fell into step beside him and, as they headed out of the conservatory, Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders. Harry smiled up at his uncle, who simply ruffled his hair. Harry didn't need to say anything. Sirius understood. He always did.

.....................

It was two weeks after graduation and Harry was back in the conservatory. He had a lot to think about, and though Sirius had done his best to keep him occupied with creating lesson plans and arranging the classroom and creating some of the teaching aids which Sirius would need for certain lessons. But he had been distracted and finally Sirius had ordered him to take a break.

Naturally, Harry had grabbed Susser and trekked to the conservatory. Harry always brought her when he returned to the school, there were always times when he would have nothing to do, or one of his professors would ask him to play a piece, or Harry would simply get the urge to play.

Now, as he stood on the stage in the conservatory, Harry imagined that he could hear his mother's piano accompaniment begin, and, feeling wistful, he set into Gluck's Melodie. It felt wonderful to let loose into the notes. Each time he played it was like returning home. Except this was a home that you couldn't really leave, not completely.

Harry remembered his lessons as a child, when he had begun learning more complex pieces on the violin, and his teacher. Trysha Baumer would give almost running-commentary as he played, encouraging him to lean in to an upcoming note, to relax, to trust his fingers. It had frustrated him as a child, but Harry had grown to love it. Miss Baumer was never demanding, never scolded him if he didn't quite make the stretch for a certain note. And even as Harry himself would berate himself for not quite hitting the note, she would remind him that his fingers were still growing, and when this excuse was unsatisfactory to Harry, as it so often was, she would hand him a stress ball and tell him that when he wasn't practicing, he should use it, on both hands, because it would make them stronger, and then he could reach the notes.

Harry still carried a stress ball with him.

As he played, still imagining the accompaniment, he let the piece be what it wanted to be. It was a living thing, wistfully recounting fond memories of people who lost, and radiating love for those who had touched it, in any small way, and helped it grow.

He abruptly cut-off, however, when he realized that sometime between when he had started to play and now, the accompaniment which he had been imagining had become very real.

Harry frowned into the wings of the stage and was immediately confronted by a familiar pair of grey eyes. Hastily, he set his violin into its case before he dropped it. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as Draco grinned and stepped away from the small piano that had been left there after the spring concert.

"I had an epiphany," Draco said. Harry crossed his arms and looked doubtful. "You don't want to know what it was?" Draco teased.

Harry stood quietly for a moment, and then let out a breath, uncrossing his arms and pulling Draco into a tight hug. "No, I don't want to hear it. Not quite yet," Harry said, as he took a deep breath and inhaled Draco's unique scent of old spice and vanilla. He smiled as he felt Draco's arms rap around him.

They stood there for uncounted minutes, until, finally, Harry looked up and smiled a little. "Okay,'' he said softly. "What was your epiphany?" Harry asked. Draco smirked and kissed Harry, a chaste touch of lips that made Harry sigh in perfect contentment.

"I'm not Wendy," Draco stated and, for a moment, Harry was at a loss, before remembering their conversation months ago while choosing a movie to while away the hours.

"And you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Harry teased, before he pulled Draco down into a leisurely open-mouth kiss full of promise, and Harry decided he very much liked what it was promising.

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**The End**

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Sorry about the sap ending. I hope you enjoyed this fic. I still can't believe it's over!! I want to thank everyone who took the time to review, I really appreciate it, especially those of you who wrote long ones, and wrote them faithfully for each chapter!! I wish I could thank each of you separately! Anyway, I hope that some of you will check out the sequel.

**Note**: Okay. Here's what's going to be happening in the near future. I'm going back and editing this fic up, resposting each chapter with minor changes and such. Expect the first chapter of the sequel out by mid-November.

This chapter, (the final chapter!!) Is **dedicated** to Angelic Candy for all the wonderful reviews.

**AND**

Belle, for the long and faithful reviews!

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**TEASER FOR THE SEQUEL: **

_THE ART AND PRACTICE OF ABSOLUTE PITCH_

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"You had a fight?" Draco asked ruefully.

Ron handed him the tea and then settled down on the opposite sofa. "I expect I'll be hearing from Harry, next," Ron replied with a resigned sigh.

"Probably," Draco said with a grin.

"How was the concert?" Ron asked.

"Same old crap. Different setting," Draco replied, waving his hand dismissively. He frowned suspiciously when Ron leaned forward with a conspiratorial expression.

"Have you given any thought to what you were mentioning earlier? You know, that _thing_ you mentioned," Ron asked. Draco looked away from the curious redhead and pretended not to have heard. "Oh, come _on_!" Ron shouted.

"We'll see," Draco answered, cryptically. Ron was opening his mouth to press onward but the front door opened and Harry called out.

"In here, Har!" Ron replied. Draco quirked an eyebrow as the dark-haired man stepped into the living room.

"Draco," Harry said, a smile splitting his face. He checked his watch. "You're early," he scolded.

"Couldn't be helped. I found myself pining away in your absence," Draco teased, flopping back onto the couch and pretending to be pining.

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